rRKSKXTKD    TO    THK 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CflLIFORNIfl 

\'.Y 

C.  p.  HUNTINGTON 

clUNE,    1897. 

flccession  No.  70  3  J^        Class  No, 


3. 


•»j;*  A  X  1) 


\IISCELLANEOUS  POEMS, 


T3  Y 


MART  TAYLOR. 

OF  TH15 

riVERSITY 


IvANCISCO  : 


'J 


H.. 


I^OCAL.  L.YRICS, 


AND 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS, 


BY 


MART  TAYLOR. 


i 


SAN  FRANCISCO : 

PUBLISHES  BT  HUTCHINaS  i  KOSENFIELD,  MONTOOHERT  STBEET. 

1858. 


7?^. 


w 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  vear  1858, 

BY  MART  TAYLOR, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States 
for  the  Nothern  District  of  California. 


TO 

Messrs.  J.  A.  Mordo  and  J.  E.  Johnson,  Managers  of  the  justly- 
celebrated  Troupe  "  The  Pensylvanians "  this  little  volume  is  respectfully 
inscribed  bj  iheir  friend  the  author. 


PREFACE. 


Custom  makes  it  the  duty  of  every  one  venturing  upon  the  ocean  of  litera- 
ture in  a  bark  of  his  own  manufacture,  to  explain  to  the  public  his  private 
reasons  for  pursuing  the  rash  and  dangerous  course.  My  only  inducements 
are  these :  The  Local  Lyrics  contained  in  this  little  volume,  although  sung 
by  myself  at  the  Melodeon  and  Lyceum  in  San  Francisco,  as  well  as  to  the 
only  tune  I  ever  knew,  and  in  a  style  I  have  never  heard  recommended,  have, 
npon  every  occasion,  been  received  with  marked  favor  by  the  large  and  re- 
spectable audiences  who  have  from  time  to  time  patronized  those  establish- 
ments. 

Knowing  that  music  or  melody  had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  their  favor- 
able reception,  I  very  naturally  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  Lyrics  alone 
were  all  that  were  wanted,  and  therefore,  in  compliance  with  the  solicitations 
of  many  who  have  heard  them,  I  have  published  a  few  selections  from  the 
same,  together  with  a  number  of  miscellaneous  pieces,  which,  to  make  my  book 
larger,  I  have  inserted,  at  the  risk  of  making  it  worse. 


'% 


MI§eEiLANE©MS  PQimi 

AND 


BY  MART   TAYLOR. 


Mintn?  L.ife  ia  rorty-nlne. 


Are  you  a  miner  ?  reader  if  you  are, 

Lay  not  my  book  aside,  but  read  with  care  ; 
Whatever  it  contains  for  it  is  true, 

If  you're  a  miner  it  will  speak  of  you  ; 
But  are  you  not  a  man  who  digs  for  gold, 

Still  I  would  urge  you  with  assurance  bold, 
To  read  my  poem  fur  I  hope  to  show 

A  fund  of  funny  facts  you  ought  to  know. 
'Tis  here  I  set  my  stakes  and  notice  post, 

Now  do  not  think  that  I  intend  to  boast, 
I'll  only  claim  my  just  allotted  ground, 

And  if  I  work  it  fault  cannot  be  found ; 
But  if  I  fail  in  my  attempt  to  bring 

A  ♦*  decent  color  "  as  I  onward  sing. 
Bid  me  "  dry  up,"  I'll  bear  deserved  blame 

And  any  miner  then  may  "jump  my  claim." 
Now  poeo  tempo  I  intend  to  show, 

Just  how  the  miner  lives,  that  all  may  know 
His  joys,  his  sorrows  and  his  trials  grt^at 

Through  which  he's  guided  by  his  fickle  fate. 
Mine  will  not  be  a  yarn  of  airy  schemes, 

Or  the  rehearsal  of  romantic  dreams. 
But  with  the  truth  and  candor  of  a  saint, 

A  perfect  picture  I'll  attempt  to  paint; 
And  as  a  miner  of  his  claim  would  say, 

Ido  eincer'-ly  *'hope"  to  make  it  pay. 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

Hope — 'tis  the  magic  of  the  miners  toil ; 

Hope  turns  our  rivers  and  upturns  our  soil ; 
Hope  is  a  monarch  that  must  be  obeyed  ; 

Hope — the  propeller  of  the  pick  and  spade; 
Hope  is  the  miners  constant  guiding  star 

That  lured  him  hither  from  his  home  afar; 
And  hope  stands  by  him  yes,  he  clings  to  hope, 

As  would  a  drowning  sailor  to  a  rope.  ^ 

I've  got  the  "  dead-wood  "  on  attention  now, 

So  brother  miners  I  will  make  my  bow, 
Commence  my  labors  or  begin  my  lays, 

And  make  a  book  for  you,  forme  a  raise. 
Please  follow  me  ^ith  eagerness  of  soul 

While  I  jump  down  a  deep  "  coyote  hole." 
To  reach  the  bed-rock  many  days  were  spent 

Removing  boulders,  picking  through  cement. 
Till  here  we  are  "  as  sure  as  dad  loves  eels," 

Fast  in  the  mud  above  our  "  gum  boot  heels." 
Give  me  a  pan,  I'll  see  how  much  it  pays, 

Confound  the  luck,  I  can't  the  color  raise; 
Smart  chance  for  bed  rock  stranger,  tell  us  pray. 

Now  don't  it  look  as  though  it  ought  to  pay  ? 
"  Well  this  is  rather  dull,"  says  Georgia  Dan, 

'*  But  one  can't  tell  by  washing  with  a  pan." 
"There  may  be  something  in  it  yet,"  says  Bub, 

"  You  bet  your  life  the  claim  will  pay  us  grub." 
Another  pan  and  still  another  tried, 

Now  they've  prospected  it  on  every  side. 
And  there's  the  claim  they  broke  themselves  and  bought. 

Which  with  their  labor  has  but  come  to  naught. 
What  shall  we  do,  says  one,  I'd  like  to  know, 

This  claim  I  reckoned  as  our  only  show. 
I've  had  no  luck  says  one  in  all  my  lite, 

I  cannot  raise  a  dollar  for  my  wife ; 
And  every  time  she's  written  me,  I've  been 

Assured  that  she  is  destitute  of  tin, 
Another  says  "  come  partners  don't  complain. 

Perhaps  the  next  time  we  may  strike  a  vein, 
And  if  we  once  get  on  the  lead  awhile, 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS.  7 

We've  got  the  dead  wood  on  a  bully  pile." 
This  was  their  consolation,  this  has  been 

The  consolation  of  "  a  world  of  men." 
Indulgent  readers  let  me  have  your  eyes, 

I'll  place  them  on  more  startling  mysteries, 
I'll  take  them  from  you  without  causing  pain, 

And  in  due  season  give  them  back  again. 
'Twill  be  my  eflfort  in  these  little  lines. 

To  paint  a  perfect  picture  of  the  mines  ; 
Prepare  to  follow  me,  unknown,  unseen, 

Along  the  banks  of  this  late  found  ravine  ; 
And  as  we  plod  along  lets'  notice  all 

That  may  within  our  visual  angle  fall. 
Let's  peep  into  this  cabin,  who  is  there? 

A  rusty  looking  man  with  long  black  hair. 
With  huge  moustach  that  covers  both  his  lips, 

And  to  his  mouth  affords  a  dark  eclipse  ; 
He  sits  in  silent  meditation  now, 

A  shocking  shade  has  settled  on  his  brow  ; 
Let  us  observe  him,  likely  time  will  show, 

The  real  cause  of  his  apparent  woe. 
See  it  appears  at  last  his  fancy's  scope,  $ 

Has  quite  inspired  him  with  a  gleam  of  hope  ; 
He  springs  from  his  rude  seat  that  has  no  back. 

And  firmly  fastens  on  a  flour  sack 
He  shuts  his  cabin  door,  pulls  in  the  latch. 

Seizes  his  bowie-knife  and  cuts  a  patch, 
Pulls  off  bis  pants  and  plies  some  horrid  stitches 

And  quite  relieved  declares,  *•  I've  fixed  those  breeches." 
Let's  pass  along  for  we  will  wish  to  stop 

A  little  while  at  yonder  trading  shop — 
Tis  built  of  logs,  the  ground  its  only  floor, 

A  bit  of  canvas  only  for  the  door, 
Around  the  building  hanging  up  on  pegs 

Or  scattered  over  tables,  minus  legs, 
A  motely  mass  from  cradles  to  a  spade 

Compose  the  merchant's  wondrous  stock  in  trade, 
And  o'er  the  room,  that  all  may  take  good  heed, 

Are  hieroglyphics,  which,  if  we  can  read,  ^.-5--==-,^ 

^^^'^Tb  R  A /I'y'^^^^ 

^  OF  THK  ^ 

f  TT-KTTTT'p-RCiTTV    : 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

Will  tell  us  all  that's  in  the  miner's  store 

Which,  if  not  blind,  we  must  have  seen  before — 
There  is  a  maraoioth  notice,  see  :  *'  No  Trust," 

And  there  another  :  "  Highest  Price  for  Dust," 
And  there's  a  fancy  card  which  reads,  I  think, 

"  The  best  of  Liquors,  but  '  two  bits'  a  drink." 
The  day  is  Sunday,  but  left  in  the  lurch 

Is  Bible,  prayer  book,  minister  and  church 
By  those  assembled  here,  who  think  the  day 

Was  given  them  to  pass  in  any  way ; 
Down  in  one  corner  seated  upon  bags 

Are  men  well  dressed,  with  others  quite  in  rags, 
All,  quite  forgetful  that  'tis  Sabbath  day, 

With  dingy  cards  are  quite  intent  at  play — 
The  room  is  filled  with  men  of  many  a  hue. 

White,  black,  brown,  red  and  some  are  getting  blue, 
And  there's  a  boisterous  boy  about  fifteen, 

Who  loudly  laughs  at  one  he  swears  is  green. 
What  means  this  oath  that  takes  us  so  aback? 

'Tis  nothing  only  one  has  *'  lost  his  jack." 
"  I  played  the  ace,"  says  one,  "  The  deuce  you  did," 

"  Well,  here  it  is,  it  cannot  well  be  hid," 
*'  Then  I  am  beat  again,  confound  the  luck, 

Bring  on  the  whisky,  'bar  keep,'  I  am  stuck." 
Kind  reader  let's  together  pass  along 

And  leave  behind  us  this  excited  throng. 
This  is  a  day,  'tis  said,  that  God  has  blest 

And  ^iven  to  us  for  a  day  of  rest — 
A  few  observe  it  with  religious  care. 

But  many  spend  it  as  you  see  them  there. 
Is  he  "  prospecting?"    No  I  I  see  no  dirt. 

Save  what  he  wrings  from  that  old  flannel  e^iirt ; 
Sunday  is  washing  day,  that  pool  his  tub, 

And  there's  a  "  stack  of  clothes  "  he  has  to  rub. 
Upon  this  day  are  sharpened  all  the  picks- 
Each  thing  ihe  miner  cannot  stop  to  fix 
Within  the  week,  is  left  for  Sunday,  and 

He  turns  attention  to  it  and  his  hand. 
Sunday,  the  busy  day  in  miner's  life, 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS. 

He  frames  excuses  to  his  anxious  wife 
Or  writes  apologies  to  his  sweetheart, 

With  whom  he  promised  not  so  lon^  to  part — 
Pours  out  his  soul  in  strains  of  earnest  love, 

Tells  her  he  prizes  her  tar,  far  above 
The  golden  ore  that  all  around  him  lies. 

That  soon  he  hopes  to  see  her  with  his  eyes, 
That  he  intends  to  stop  a  Utile  while 

And  make,  if  possible,  a  "  bully  pile," 
Throws  in  his  love  to  all  inquiring  friends 

And  signs  his  name,  and  thus  the  letter  ends, 
And  he's  a  happy  man,  his  mind's  relieved, 

If  he  expects  the  half  will  be  believed. 
And  such  is  mining  life,  and  those  who  toil 

And  risk  tht-ir  time  on  this  our  golden  soil 
Encounter  dangers  mightier  by  far 

Than  those  of  famine,  pestilence  and  war. 
God  bless  the  miner,  is  my  humble  prayer, 

And  generous  Heaven  enable  him, to  bear 
The  many  trials  that  must  be  endured 

By  all  who  are  by  hope  of  gain  allured. 
To  risk  alike  their  fortunes  and  their  health 

In  their  ambitious  struggle  after  wealth. 
Alas  !  dear  friends,  and  must  the  truth  be  told, 

That  hundreds,  in  their  anxious  search  for  gold. 
To  bitter  hardships  have  been  willing  slaves 

And  been  rewarded  by  untimely  graves. 
Of  all  professions  in  our  golden  land. 

First  in  the  rank  we  see  the  miner  stand — 
That  noble  soul,  who  seeks  by  honest  toil 

To  win  his  fortune,  even  from  the  soil. 
Let  politicians  poll  their  wires  and  prate 

Of  their  wise  methoils  to  enrich  the  State, 
Let  judges  keep  their  benches,  lawyers  plead, 

And  priests  and  parsons  tell  us  what  we  need, 
Let  honest  miners,  who  are  toiling  here, 

Suspend  their  labors  even  for  a  year, 
And  though  our  State  is  wealthy  now  and  strong, 

Our  £1  Daradj  would  but  live  in  song. 


MISCELANEOUS   POEMS 

You  see,  dear  friends,  how  much  depends  onyou- 

How  necessary  'tis  you  should  be  true; 
In  your  endeavors,  for  you  have  command 

Of  every  enterprise  in  this  y(»ur  land  ; 
Be  honest  then,  and  in  your  dealing  fair. 

Preserve  your  dignity  with  jealous  care. 
Though  ficle  fate  may  thwart  your  every  plan, 

Yet  each  of  you  should  prove  himself  a  man. 


All  for  Money. 


What  a  funny  world  is  ours ! 

Very  funny — 
Full  of  sunshine,  full  of  showers, 

Full  of  money — 
But  the  last  is  hard  to  get : 

What  a  pity ! 
Many  are  in  want  of  it. 

In  the  city, 
In  the  village,  in  the  town, 
Men  are  wandering  up  and  down 
Through  the  valleys,  o'er  the  hills, 
Selling  notions,  vending  pills — 
And  his  land  the  farmer  tills — 

All  for  money  : 

That  is  funny. 

What  a  funny  world  is  ours  ! 

Yery  funny — 
Full  of  thorns  and  full  of  flowers, 

Full  of  money — 
Magic  money  !  passing  strange 

Is  thy  po  wer — 
Mortals  change  about  for  change 

Every  hour  : 
Editors  and  printers  toil. 
Authors  burn  the  midnight  oil, 
Plowboys  leave  their  plows  to  teach, 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS.  11 

Dandies  try  to  pray  and  preach, 
Misers  strive  to  overreach — 

All  for  money  : 

That  is  funny. 

What  a  funny  world  is  ours  ! 

Very  funny — 
Full  of  sweets  and  full  of  sours, 

Full  of  money — 
For  it  people  toil  and  slave, 

Striving  ever — 
From  the  cradle  to  the  grave — ' 

Ceasing  never : 
Priests  and  cobblers  take  their  tolls, 
Blessing,  patching  up  our  souls. 
Measures  millers  fail  to  fill. 
Doctors  try  to  cure  or  kill. 
Tailors  bring  a  wicked  bill — 

All  for  money  : 

That  is  funny. 

What  a  funny  world  is  ours  I 

Very  funny — 
Full  of  cabins,  full  of  towers. 

Full  of  money — 
Bridges  made  to  get  to  heaven. 

Some  are  rotten — 
The  camel  and  the  needle's  eye 

Are  soon  forgotten — 
Concert  singers  go  around 
Murdering  all  harmonious  sound, 
Politicians  speeches  make. 
Burglars  heads  and  houses  break, 
Men  will  all  advantage  take — 

All  for  money  : 

That  is  funny. 

What  a  funny  world  is  this  1 
Very  funny — 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

Full  of  misery,  Ml  of  bliss, 

Full  of  money, 
Through  life  on  golden  wings  men  trust 

To  be  carried, 
And  at  last  in  golden  dust 

To  be  buried  : 
Actors  will,  upon  my  word, 
Doubly  murder  Richard  Third, 
Landlords  will  the  hungry  feed. 
Surgeons  amputate  and  bleed, 
Mormons  preach  a  wretched  creed, 
Miners  try  to  strike  a  lead, 
Euffians  do  a  bloody  deed, 
Lovers,  lawyers,  lie  and  plead — 

All  for  money  : 

That  is  funny. 


Tlie  Brokc'n  Miner *s  l^oliloquy* 


A'miner  in  his  cabin  sat 

Alone  one  frosty  night. 
Plying  his  needle  on  his  clothes 

Which  were  in  piteous  plight ; 
While  holding  garments  in  his  hands. 

With  holes  in,  long  and  wide. 
What  wonder  that  he  stopped  his  work 

And  turned  aside,  and  sighed. 

He  had  been   here  since  forty-nine, 

But  had  been  unfortunate  ; 
Twas  grating  to  his  soul  to  think 

His  troubles  had  been  great ; 
He'd  had  his  pick  in  many  claims 

But  picked  out  little  gold. 
And  now  he  was  completely  "  strapped, ^^ 

And  weather  "  strapping  '^  cold. 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS.  13 

Since  he  had  not  a  single  dime 

It  caused  hira  double  pain — 
The  reigning  wish  within  his  heart 

Was  a  desire  for  rain. 
Long  time  he  had  been  out  of  *'  grub/' 

Or  nearly  so,  at  least, 
He  couldn't  raise  a  sack  of  flour, 

Although  he  had  some  yeast. 

As  he  had  no  amusement  now, 

Save  musing  o'er  his  fate, 
He  straightway  straightened  out  and  took 

A  drink  of  "  brandy  straight." 
He  drops  his  work  while  tear-drops  stand 

And  glisten  in  his  eyes, 
We  hear  him  break  his  solitude, 

And  thus  soliloquize  : 

"  I've  reached  a  wretched  crisis  sure, 

No  surety  have  I 
But  that  I  left  my  Peggy  dear, 

To  '  peg  out '  here  and  die. 
I'm  out  of  '  grub,^  I'm  out  of  wood  ; 

And  one  would  well  suppose, 
Supposing  he  observed  me  close, 

That  I  was  out  of  clothes. 

"  I've  said  to  Gross,  the  grocer,  that 

I  trusted  he  would  trust 
But  ah  I  he  durst  not  deal  with  me 

Unless  I  had  the  dust ; 
And  mad  am  I,  with  Madam  J, 

Who  once  got  very  mad 
And  badly  scared  because  she  learned 

I  hadn't  got  a  '  scad.' 

"  I've  led  a  toiling  life  until 
My  hands  are  hard  as  lead, 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

Thougli  daily  bred  to  work  I  don't 

Work  out  my  daily  bread  ; 
I  cannot  knead  a  loaf  of  bread, 

Though  bread  I  really  need, 
And  though  I  lead  a  laboring  life, 

I  labor  on  no  '  lead.' 

"  No  bolder  hearted  man  than  I 

Has  e'er  a  boulder  moved, 
And  though  I  have  improved  my  time 

By  time  I'm  not  improved. 
IVc  staked  off  claims,  done  heavy  work. 

Met  many  a  heavy  '  dun,' 
Run  '  cuts '  in  claims  when  it  were  best 

That  I  should  '  cut  and  run.' 

''  When  creditors  came  round  with  bills 

To  get  them  '  squared  '  I'd  say 
I've  poor  grounds  for  paying  when 

My  grounds  so  poorly  pay. 
To  work  my  '  incline  '  longer  now 

No  longer  I'm  inclined. 
And  I've  a  mind  to  leave  the  spot 

*  So  spotted '  where  I've  mined. 

I've  oft  sent  word  to  Peggy  that 

I  hadn't  made  a  cent. 
And  she  contends  for  all  of  that. 

That  with  me  she's  content ; 
So  back  to  Peggy  I  will  go. 

Although  I  have  to  beg. 
And  if  I'm  begged  to  leave  again, 

I  will  not  stir  a  '  peg.'  " 


AND   LOCAL  LYRICS.    *       fjj^.^'i^^ 
The  ConTentloii  of  Fislies.  \^''  (.,;  -or<\ 

"  *Twas  once  on  a  time  ''  that  a  number  of  fishes, 

Put  their  names  to  a  call  expressing  their  wishes, 

That  all  might  assemble  where  none  could  molest,      ^ 

But  each  his  opinion  could  tell  to  the  rest ; 

So  the  fishes  of  every  description  and  name — 

The  **  big  fish  "  and  "  small  fry  "  respectively  came  ; 

And  when  a  respectable  number  were  there, 

The  whale  was  respectfully  tendered  the  chair. 

He  opened  the  meeting  by  saying  that  he 

Would  try  and  no  longer  than  possible  be. 

"  That's  a  curious  speech  "  said  the  sword-fish,  "  I  vow, 

He  could  hardly  be  longer,  he's  eighty  feet  now/'    ^ 

His  whaleship  declared  it  in  very  bad  taste, 

That  his  "  oil  should  be  burned  and  his  bones  go  to  waste  ;  " 

And  he  furthermore  stated  he  thought  it  unfair 

That  the  fishes  should  try  to  "  make  light  of  him  there  ;  " 

And  he  blubbered  to  think  that  a  fish  of  such  pride. 

Should  be  always  cut  up  and  exceedingly  tried. 

The  porpoise  arose  and  replied  to  the  whale, 

And  stated  that  he  had  been  moved  by  his  tale. 

But  he  said  that  the  whale  and  the  shark  might  be  vain  ; 

That  they  both  have  "  fine  openings  "  is  certainly  plain. 

Says  thc'shark  '^  I  have  never  made  any  parade, 

I'm  only  a  poor  scaly  dentist  by  trade, 

But  my  duty  should  be,  to  be  on  the  alert 

And  show  to  mankind  I  have  teeth  toinsert.^^ 

Says  the  shark  **  the  old  whale  is  a  lawyer  no  doubt — 

The  porpoise  a  preacher  and  both  of  them  sp(mt. 

And  though  Jonah  the  prophet  in  his  whale-ship  once  went, 

The  whale  had  not  profited  by  the  event. 

The  cod-fish,  like  some  in  our  cities  now-a-days, 

By  a  vain  worded  speech  began  seeking  for  praise  : 

He  said  that  no  one  could  declare  him  a  fool, 

For  the  most  of  his  time  had  been  spent  in  a  school, 

That  the  world  all  admired  him,  he  knew  by  this  sign, 

That  to  him  mankind  had  dropped  many  a  line; 


16  'miscellaneous  poems 

He  tliouglit  that  the  cod-fish  were  better  than  whales, 

Since  they  gave  such  a  business  to  some  of  the  males. 

The  clam,  who  had  scarcely  been  noticed  before, 

All  c/am-erous  for  honors  appeared  on  the  floor, 

And  said  that  he  hoped  it  were  not  out  of  place 

For  one  so  neglected  to  open  his  case. 

He  acknowledged  he  was  of  diminutive  size, 

But  br&gged  on  his  muscle  quite  to  their  suprise  ; 

And  stated,  though  he  was  not  sought  for  his  oil. 

He  often  was  found  in  a  stew  or  a  hroil. 

The  oyster  arose  and  modestly  said 

The  most  of  his  time  had  been  passed  in  his  hed  ; 

That  he  never  had  feared  the  fishes  or  snakes, 

But  his  virtuous  bed  was  molested  by  rakes. 

The  tortoise  for  honor  began  to  contend 

By  saying  that  he  was  the  "  Alderman's  friend." 

Said  he,  "  tho'  I  scarcely  can  move  on  my  feet, 

I  oft'  travel  far  my  admirers  to  meet.^' 

A  fish  of  five  inches  now  wished  to  be  seen  ; 

Says  the  cod  111  not  listen  to  any  sardine. 

The  crab  thought  his  presence  no  longer  desired. 

So  he  left  the  convention  and  backward  retired. 

The  flying-fish  flew  in  a  passion,  no  doubt. 

At  seeing  so  many  old  suckers  about. 

The  convention  broke  up  and  the  members  declare 

That  like  many  now-a-days,  'twas  a  scaly  affair. 


Tflklte  Smitli,  Esq. 


White  Smith,  Esq.,  as  he  is  called. 

Is  blacksmith  of  our  town ; 
He's  likewise  Justice  of  the  Peace, 

And  one  of  some  renown. 
He  advertises  he'll  attend 

To  blacksmithing  and  law  ; 
Will  file  an  affidavit,  deed, 

Or  even  file  a  saw. 


AND   LOCAL  LYRICS.  IT 

Sometimes  he^s  pounding  in  his  shop, 

Sometimes  expounding  laws  ; 
Sometimes  he^s  discontented,  just 

Because  he  has  no  cause, 
Unlike  the  multitude  of  men  * 

^  I'll  mention  in  my  rhymes, 

^'        He's  always  best  contented  when 
*We  all  have  trjing  times. 

He'll  not  do  a  dishonest  act, 

Some  say,  at  any  price. 
But  I  must  state  it  as  a  fact. 

He  has  one  heavy  vice. 
'Tis  said  he  never  plays  at  cards, 

But  many,  I  will  pledge. 
Have  caught  our  model  blacksmith  at 

A  favorite  game  of  sledge. 


In  courts  of  justice,  Justice  Smith, 

Intending  to  be  iust, 
Convicts  a  man  of  forgery 

When  duty  says  he  must ; 
Then  in  his  shop,  all  by  himself, 

The  same  thing  he  will  do — 
For  true  it  is,  for  sake  of  pelf, 

He  forges  largely  too. 

Though  he  is  called  a  quiet  man, 

I'd  have  the  people  know 
Whene'er  you  go  into  his  shop 

He's  always  bound  to  blow. 
I've  heard  it  said  that  he  is  free 

From  all  dishonest  tricks  ; 
Dishonest  though  it  may  not  be, 

He  steels  the  miners'  picks. 


18  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

Friend  Smith,  I  hope,  will  pardon  me 
For  taking  up  his  case  ; 

Quite  likely  he's  the  likeliest  man 
Now  living  in  the  place. 
»  So  greatly  he  excels  us  all 

In  honesty,  'tis  plain 

When  his  official  term  runs  out 

We'll  run  him  in  again. 


Woman's  Bigbts. 


Dear  creatures  of  the  gentler  sex, 

I  ask  you  for  a  single  minute, 
To  study  carefully  my  rhyme 

And  see  if  there  be  reason  in  it. 
The  questions  what  are  womans'  rights 

And  what  belong  to  her  dominion, 
Shall  herein  have  the  benefit 

Of  my  unprejudiced  opinion. 

I  deem  it  proper,  just  and  right. 

That  women  write  just  what  is  proper  ; 
But  when  she  gets  to  raising  Ned, 

'Tis  needless  to  attempt  to  stop  her. 
I  deem  it  right  for  pretty  girls, 

Who  for  an  offer  vainly  tarry. 
To  drop  a  'kerchief,  glove  or  hint. 

Before  some  man  whom  they  would  marry. 

A  belle  may  have  a  cutting  tongue, 

It  is  her  right  and  none  can  doubt  it ; 
'Tis  her  defensive  weapon,  and 

A  belle  is  valueless  without  it. 
The  belles  may  ring  ( their  fingers  )  when 

They  like,  but  then  no  one  supposes, 
That  they  have  any  right  to  ring 

Their  lovers  or  their  husbands  noses. 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS  19 

Mistaken  mode  gives  girls  the  right 

To  darken  hair  or  whiten  faces,  ^ 

To  lace  their  waist  a  little  tight 

Or  wear  a  hoop  (in  certain  cases); 
Mode  makes  it  right  to  hide  their  heads 

In  Leghorn  lanes  where  none  can  find  them, 
Or  would  they  have  their  heads  observed 

To  wear  their  bonnets  just  behind  them. 

A  woman  has  a  right  to  scold 

Her  children  when  they're  cross  and  fretty, 
Or  any  one  who  dares  declare 

That  they  are  anything  but  pretty  ; 
But  then  she  has  no  kind  of  right 

To  say  her  husband  is  a  noodle, 
Or  make  him  tend  the  baby  while 

She  takes  abroad  the  precious  poodle. 

The  ladies  have  undoubted  right 

To  teach  us  men  our  bounden  duty, 
To  love,  respect  and  honor  them 

For  their  undoubted  worth  and  beauty  ; 
They  have  a  right,  most  certainly. 

To  share  our  poverty  and  riches. 
To  mend  our  manners,  stockings,  and 

To  mend,  but  never  wear  our  trousers. 


Tanlty  and  Pride, 


y  rhyme  is  of  two  little  weeds,  called  Vanity  and  Pride, 
iat  in  the  garden  of  our  hearts  are  ever  side  by  side. 
ley  are  weeds  of  very  sudden  growth,  and,  getting  once  a  start, 
iiey  choke  the  flowers  that  otherwise  would  beautify  the  heart, 
^ey  flourish  in  all  seasons,  and  thrive  in  every  clime, 
[ley  were  sown  in  Eden^s  garden,  and  will  perish  but  with  time, 
ley  are  weeds  that  are  productive  of  but  very  little  good, 
nd  'tis  said  the  breath  of  flattery  supplies  them  both  with  food. 
will  tell  a  truthful  story,  just  to  make  the  matter  plain. 


20  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

And  prove  to  you  that  flattery  will  make  one  proud  and  vain. 
It  is  of  my  own  experience,  and  perhaps,  when  it  is  shown, 
Twill  appear  to  be,  to  some  of  you,  a  little  like  your  own. 
Once  I  knew  a  little  roguish  maid,  whose  smooth  and  glossy  hair 
Hung  down  in  wavy  ringlets  about  her  neck  so  fair  ; 
Whose  eyes  were  so  expressive,  so  lustrous,  soft  and  blue, 
Whose  pretty  cheeks  were  blooming  with  such  a  rosy  hue. 
Who  seemed  so  like  a  fairy,  I  was  touched  with  Cupid^s  dart, 
And  bowing  at  her  queenly  feet  I  tendered  her  my  heart. 
When  I  told  of  my  affection  she  granted  me  a  smile. 
And  from  then,    naught  like  her  presence  could  my  tedious 

hours  beguile. 
I  was  constantly  beside  her,  and  my  prospects  were  so  fair 
That  my  mind  was  ever  building  golden  castles  in  the  air. 
We  would  often  roam  together,  and  would  often  spend  an  hour 
In  the  fields,  the  grove,  or  garden,  where  she  seemed  a  lovely 

flower. 
She  was  skillful  with  the  pencil,  I  was  fond  of  making  rhymes, 
In  our  rhyming  and  our  pencilings  we  oft  had  merry  times  ; 
For  my  songs  were  all  of  Julia,  and  my  heart  was  full  of  glee 
When  I  saw  that  Julia's  pencilings  were  likenesses  of  me. 
Well  remember  I  one  bright  day,  one  sunny  day  in  Spring, 
We  took  a  ramble  to  the  grove  to  hear  the  gay  birds  sing. 
My  soul  was  full  of  poetry,  which  burst  forth  into  song — 
Twas  as  usual  of  my  Julia,  and  I'm  sure  I  meant  no  wrong  : — 
Loud  were  my  verses  echoed  back  by  mountains,  trees  and  air. 
That  Julia  was  an  angel  and  the  fairest  of  the  fair, 
But  alas  !  my  song  awakened  so  her  vanity  and  pride 
That  she  would  never  condescend  to  be  my  happy  bride. 
So  proud  and  vain  in  little  time  Miss  Julia  got  to  be. 
That  very  ugly  likenesses  she  said  were  just  like  me, 
While,  on  the  other  hand,  'tis  said,  she  often  will  aver 
That  all  my  little  songs  of  love  were  written  just  for  her. 
Years  have  elapsed  since  that  took  place,  and  I  am  single  yet. 
But  Julia  wished  a  foreign  lord,  and  chanced  a  lord  to  get ; 
A  lord  who  lorded  over  her  in  such  a  lordless  way, 
That  she,  Oh  Lord  !  found  him  no  lord,  and  from  him  ran  away. 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS.  21 

A  Tale  of  a  Tailor. 


I  once  a  dapper  tailor  knew — 

Folks  called  him  Harry  Shears — 
His  hair  was  rather  red  and  grew 

An  ell  below  his  ears. 
By  fitting  men  with  vests  and  pants 

He  got  a  start  in  life, 
And  panted  to  invest  a  chance 

To  get  a  fitting  wife. 

Marriage  was  on  the  tapis  now, 

He  laid  aside  his  tape, 
And  sent  a  Cape  Cod  customer 

A  cloak  without  a  cape  ; 
He  threw  his  yard-stick  many  a  yard, 

Put  on  his  coat  and  hat, 
And  said — "  I'll  make  myself  a  goose 

Or  married  man — that's  flat !  " 

Of  Sally  Button  he  had  heard 

The  village  people  tell — 
She  kept  a  millinery  shop 

And  little  things  to  sell. 
She  had  a  pretty  pair  of  eyes, 

A  generous  nose  and  soul. 
And  Sally's  mouth  looked  very  like 

A  pretty  button-hole. 

Shears  sallied  down  to  Sally's  place 

As  fast  as  he  could  walk, 
Sent  in  his  press-board  with  his  name 

Marked  with  a  piece  of  chalk. 
Miss  Button  never  stirred  a  peg, 

But  looked  the  window  through — 
So  Shears  popped  into  Sally's  shop 

And  popped  the  question,  too. 


22  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

The  question  took  her  by  surprise, 

Shears  took  her  by  the  hand, 
And  standing  OA^er  her,  he  tried 

To  make  her  understand  : 
Said  he  "  I've  got  the  largest  stock 

Of  clothes  in  town,  I  vow — " 
"  Oh  yes,''  said  she,  "  and,  1  suppose, 

You  want  a  Button  now." 


"  Look  here.  Sir  Press-board  man,"  said  she, 

You're  smooth,  I  must  confess ; 
And  I  might  go  and  board  with  you, 

If  I  could  stand  the  press. 
Of  your  discourse  I  see  the  thread. 

But  must  reject  the  plan — 
I'd  truly  be  a  goose  to  wed, 

The  ninth  part  of  a  man." 

Shears  didn't  dull  on  this  rebuff: 

His  old  goose  never  hissed. 
Nor  did  he  wax  a  thread,  until 

Accepted  by  Miss  Twist. 
But  then  he  didn't  marry  her — 

Because,  I  have  no  doubt, 
While  he  cut  out  somebody's  coat 

Somebody  cut  him  out. 

Said  Shears,  "  I've  got  their  measure  now  : 

They've  given  me  the  slip ; 
And  since  I  can't  the  matter  mend,  - 

'Tis  sense  to  let  it  rip — 
So,  I'll  take  up  my  quarters  now 

Where  I  will  be  content 
By  closing  rents  in  peoples'  clothes 

To  meet  my  quarter's  rent." 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS.  23 

l¥e  Miss  Tliee  at  Home. 


We  miss  thee  at  home,  ah  !  we  miss  thee, 

And  grieve  that  thy  presence  so  dear, 
Is  wanting  with  those  who  but  bless  thee, 

While  saying  "  we  wish  he  were  here." 
The  friends  who  have  mourned  thy  departure, 

In  the  land  of  rich  treasures  to  roam, 
Thy  memory  cherish  as  sacred, 

While  daily  they  miss  thee  at  home. 

At  morning,  at  noon,  or  at  even. 

Our  circle  is  never  complete. 
And  we  offer  our  prayers  unto  Heaven, 

That  soon,  very  soon,  we  may  meet. 
Ah  !  sad  is  the  voice  of  our  singing, 

And  mournful  the  theme  of  our  song, 
Since  the  words  in  our  ears  are  still  ringing — 

Oh,  why  does  he  tarry  so  long. 

Around  the  old  family  table, 

We  daily,  though  sadly  repair. 
For  where  thou  wast  wont  to  be  seated, 

We  notice  the  lone  vacant  chair. 
We  miss  thee  at  night  in  the  parlor, 

Thy  voice^s  sweet  musical  tone 
Is  wanting  to  gladden  the  spirit 

Of  those  who  but  miss  thee  at  home. 

We  miss  thee  at  home,  ah  !  we  miss  thee, 

Thy  presence  is  needed  to  cheer 
The  hearts  of  that  now  broken  circle, 

Who  ardently  wish  thou  wert  here. 
Ah  I  little  to  us  are  the  treasures 

That  tempted  thee  far  from  our  shore, 
Since  we  can  but  mourn  for  the  pleasures 

Thy  presence  alone  can  restore. 


24  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

liines  to  tbe  I^adies 


Dear  ladies,  since  I  feel  inspired, 

Both  by  my  muse  and  inclination, 
I'll  reel  a  roll  of  rambling  rhyme, 

And  unto  you  make  dedication. 
IVe  often  been  attorney  for 

The  males,  who  fancy  they  are  giants, 
And  now  I'll  undertake  to  plead 

A  case  for  you,  my  pretty  clients. 

And  in  my  ''  opening  speech  "  I'll  say 

It  is  a  pleasurable  duty. 
And  worth  my  while  to  plead  for  worth, 

While  worth  like  thine  is  found  with  beauty; 
And  since  you  are  the  subjects  of 

Abuse  from  many  of  my  gender, 
I'll  step  aside  from  all  the  rest, 

And  stand,  undaunted,  your  defender. 

.  Some,  unacquainted  with  your  sex. 

Pretend  to  be  of  the  opinion 
That  you  were  only  formed  to  vex 

The  males,  o'er  whom  you  hold  dominion  ; 
But,  meeting  many  a  matchless  mind, 

That  isn't  unto  folly  given, 
This  verdict  I'm  compelled  to  find  : 

That  you  are  angels  out  of  heaven. 

Poor  scribblers  and  our  would-be  wits 

Speak  highly  of  you  to  your  faces, 
Then,  with  poor  puns  and  heartless  hits, 

Attack  you  from  their  hidden  places. 
No  matter  what  on  earth  you  wear, 

These  knaves  who  seek  your  kind  caresses, 
Discharge  their  pop-guns  at  your  hair. 

Your  bonnets,  or  your  pretty  dresses. 


AND   LOCAL   LYEICS.  25 

* 

They  call  your  bonnets  "  Leghorn  lanes  f 

You  drop  them,  and  the  prating  preachers 
Will  swear  you  now  wear  bonnets  small 

Just  to  display  your  pretty  features  ; 
And  is  your  dress  an  inch  too  long, 

These  men  will  call  you  ''  sidewalk  sweepers  ;" 
And  when  you  tack  them  up  a  bit, 

Why,  it^s  to  show  your  pretty  "  creepers." 

Then  lace  your  waist  a  little  tight, 

Or  waste  your  lace  in  "  bibbs  and  tuckers," 
You  still  are  quizzed  and  criticised 

By  the  same  set  of  seedy  suckers  ; 
They  raise  a  war-hoop  at  a  hoop, 

And  liken  ladies  to  a  barrel, 
But  should  you  drop  your  crinolines. 

They'll  still  find  fault  with  your  apparel. 

Now,  ladies,  do  not  mind  these  elves. 

But  treat  their  squibs  as  idle  rumors, 
And  when  you  tire  of  wearing  hoops. 

Why,  if  you  please,  resume  the  bloomers. 
Just  wear  for  ine  a  kindly  heart. 

Let  rosy  smiles  light  up  your  features. 
Dress  in  a  style  to  suit  yourselves. 

And  still  1 11  call  you  lovely  creatures. 


Alexander  Huuter. 


A.  Hunter  is  my  hero's  name, 

And  occupation  too  : 
To  hunt  the  country  o'er  for  game 

Is  all  he  aims  to  do  ; 
And  yet  A .  Hunter  comes  to  town 

Quite  often,  through  the  year, 
Upon  no  earthly  business  save 

To  meat  the  people  here. 


26  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

The  epicures  about  the  place 

On  rare-bits  love  to  fare  ; 
And  with  young  rabbits  Hunter  can 

Just  suit  them  to  a  hare. 
His  venison,  he  says,  is  cheap — 

It  may  be — but  I  fear 
However  much  it  tastes  like  sheep 

We  must  admit  ^tis  deer. 


When  Hunter  takes  a  deadly  aim, 

He's  never  known  to  fail : 
Though  woodcocks  are  afraid  of  him, 

He  cannot  make  them  "  quail." 
When  Hunter  has  his  powder  dry, 

And  rifle  all  in  trim. 
To    charge  upon  a  flock  of  geese, 

They  say  is  ''  ducks  for  him." 

Those  well  acquainted  with  the  man 

Upon  their  word  declare 
There's  mischief  bruin  when  he  gets 

His  eyes  upon  a  bear  ; 
And,  strange  although  the  fact  may  seem, 

I've  often  heard  it  said 
A.  Hunter  just  from  meat  alone 

Can  make  his  daily  bread. 

At  hunting,  Hunter  has  success — 

But  wherein  does  it  lie  ? 
Well,  I  have  heard  some  people  guess 

That  it  is  "  in  his  eye  ;" 
Some  lay  it  to  his  use  of  arms — 

And  others,  as  I'm  born. 
Urge  that  he  "  keeps  his  powder  dry  " — 

While  some  say  "  in  a  horn." 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS.  27 

Now  I  have  but  a  word  to  say — 

Which  is,  that  I  have  found 
That  all  the  game  which  Hunter  kills 

Receives  a  mortal  wound. 
Long  may  he  live — and  early  win 

A  fortune  and  a  fame ; 
And  when  his  game  of  life  is  o'er, 

May  death  find  Hunter  game. 


Musings  of  a  ITIaniac. 


Here  by  bolts  and  bars  protected, 
Here  by  once  prized  friends  neglected, 
Penniless,  hence  not  respected, 

I  am  doomed  to  solitude  ; 
Doomed  alone  to  utter  sadness, 
Such  as  prones  a  mind  to  madness — 
Nothing  to  engender  gladness. 

Is  there  in  my  cell,  so  rude. 

Save  by  criminals  unpitied. 

By  the  world  pronounced  weak-witted, 

Though  no  crime  have  I  committed, 

I  must  be  content  to  stay. 
As  to-day,  will  be  to-morrow  ; 
Trouble  IVe  no  need  to  borrow, 
IVe  enough  to  feed  my  sorrow, 

That  I  cannot  drive  away. 

No  ungenerous  accusation, 
No  unrighteous  imputation, 
And  no  wrong  insinuation, 

Would  I  on  a  mortal  cast. 
Though  I  speak,  and  speak  severely, 
I  can  say,  and  say  sincerely, 
That  I  see,  and  see  most  clearly, 

Through  the  plottings  of  the  past. 


28  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

I've  two  friends  that  ne'er  deceive  me, 
Though  at  times  I  fear  they  leave  me, 
Oft  I  welcome  to  reprieve  me — 

Both  my  mind  and  maiden  muse; 
And  when  comes  my  muse  and  reason, 
Gladly  I  embrace  the  season, 

And  those  blessed  moments  use. 
Come  they  oft,  my  soul  uplifting, 
Conquering  clouds  around  me  drifting  ; 
Come  they  like  the  sunlight,  sifting 

Gently  through  my  prison  bars. 
Though  their  time  I  know  is  fleeting, 
Joyfully  I  hail  the  meeting, 
And  I  give  them  such  a  greeting, 

As  the  midnight  gives  the  stars. 
Some  in  whom  I've  been  confiding. 
My  misfortunes  now  take  pride  in, 
There's  no  further  room  for  hiding 

Motives  that  impelled  them  on  ; 
They've  accomplished,  strictly  speaking, 
All  for  which  they  have  been  seeking, 
And  methinks  they  truly  glory, 
As  they  circulate  the  story. 

That  another  mind  is  gone. 
He  who  needs  an  explanation, 
Little  knows  my  situation. 
And  can  make  true  calculation 

Just  how  far  his  hands  are  clear. 
Furrowed,  though,  by  care  my  face  is  ; 
Though  in  it  they  see  the  traces 
Of  a  maniac — my  place  is 

Happier  than  his,  I  fear. 


Am)   LOCAL   LYRICS.  2^ 

The  Country  Editor. 


The  country  editor  !  how  sage 

He  looks  while  walking  down 
Unto  the  printing  office,  from 

His  boarding  place  up  town  ; 
Revolving  over  in  his  mind 

Some  horrid  row  or  joke, 
He  passes  on,  wrapped  up  in  thought, 

And  in  a  Spanish  cloak. 

His  face,  the  type  of  dignity, 

That  all  respect  commands, 
He  thinks  the  nation^s  destiny 

Is  resting  on  his  hands. 
His  form  now  standing  by  his  stand, 

Puffiing  a  play  and  pipe, 
Now  setting  leaded  leaders  up 

In  his  long-primer  type. 

All  night  he  has  been  writing  duns 

To  patrons  in  arrears  ; 
All  day  the  call  for  copy  has 

Been  ringing  in  his  ears. 
And  then  with  pi  the  devil  made, 

He^s  really  been  oppressed  ; 
What  wonder  that  he  loves  the  pie 
The  bakers  make  the  best. 

Exchanges  now  are  piling  in, 

Letters,  and  bills,  and  duns, 
Conundrums,  riddles,  poems,  and 

Excruciating  puns. 
Among  the  rubbish,  he  receives 

A  challenge  from  no  less 
A  personage  than  lawyer  Blood, 

Who  **  couldn't  stand  the  press." 


30  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

Seizing  his  quill,  he  seats  himself 

An  answer  to  indite — 
Of  course  his  nerves  are  steady,  but 

His  pen's  too  poor  to  write  ; 
He  cuts  his  fingers  badly  when 

His  wretched  quill  he  mends, 
And  courage,  like  his  blood,  begins 

To  ooze  at  finger  ends. 

'Tis  better  I  get  out  of  this, 
^^  So  I'll  apologise, 

For,  taking  now  a  second  thought, 

To  kill  him  isn't  wise  ; 
And  should  I  fall  by  accident, 

The  public  would  declare 
That  in  my  death  they  lost  a  man 

The  nation  couldn't  spare. 

The  country  editor  !  how  few 

Appreciate  his  lot ; 
Tho'  he  knows  all  the  public's  wants. 

The  public  knows  him  not. 
From  purest  "  principle  "  alone 

He  holds  your  interests  dear, 
So  take  his  paper  every  one 

And  pay  for  it  a  year. 

Tlie  Gold  Dollar. 

RESPECTFULLY   INSCRIBED    TO    MISS    MARY   J. 

I  do  not  mean  the  tiny  golden  coin — 

A  circulating  medium  from  the  Mint — 
In  value  just  a  hundred  cents,  and  which 

Has  more  of  beauty  than  of  value  in  't. 
My  song  is  of  a  young  and  beauteous  girl. 

With  wealth  of  wavy  hair  and  sparkling  eye, 
Whom  I  address,  not  by  her  real  name. 

But  one  that  I  delight  to  call  her  by. 


AND   LOCAL  LYRICS.  31 

Little  Gold  Dollar  is  the  treasured  name 

That  she  among  her  friends  long  time  has  borne — 
So  beauteous  in  form  and  features  that 

An  angel  for  her  beauty  well  might  mourn. 
How  fairy-like  her  movements  as  she  trips, 

With  heart  and  footstep  light,  across  the  lawn. 
As  gracefully  as  ever  darkness  flits, 

When  yielding  to  the  coming  light  of  dawn. 

In  disposition  sweet,  in  manners  free, 

Ever  as  gentle  as  a  turtle  dove — 
So  winning  in  her  ways,  that  e'en  to  see 

Becomes  at  once  a  good  excuse  to  love. 
So  innocent  is  she,  in  thought  and  mind, 

Whenever  in  her  presence  one  is  brought, 
'Twould  be  impossible  for  him  to  find 

A  place  to  harbor  one  unholy  thought. 

Long  may  she  be  as  now,  beloved  by  all. 

And  may  her  path  through  life  be  strewn  with  flowers, 
And  cares  and  troubles  never  intervene. 

To  mar  the  blissful  nature  of  her  hours. 
May  the  Gold  Dollar  ne'er  its  brightness  lose, 

But  ever  be  incapable  of  stain — 
And  growing  dearer,  as  a  jewel,  prove 

A  prize  'twould  be  almost  a  heaven  to  gain. 


Tlie  Tegretable  Girl. 

Behind  a  market  stall,  installed, 

I  mark  it  every  day. 
Stands  at  her  stand  the  fairest  girl 

I've  met  with  at  the  Bay  : 
Her  two  lips  are  of  cherry  red, 

Her  hands  a  pretty  pair, 
With  such  a  pretty  turn  up  nose, 

And  lovely  reddish  hair. 


32  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

And  there  she  stands  from  morn  till  night 

Her  customers  to  please. 
And  to  appease  their  appetite 

She  sells  them  beans  and  peas. 
Attracted  by  the  glances  from 

The  apple  of  her  eye, 
And  by  her  Chili  apples  too, 

Each  passer  by  will  buy. 

She  stands  upon  her  little  feet. 

Throughout  the  livelong  day, 
And  sells  her  celery  and  things — 

A  big  feat  by  the  way. 
She  changes  off  her  stock  for  change, 

Attending  to  each  call  ; 
And  when  she  has  but  one  beet  left, 

She  says,  ''  Now  that  beats  all !" 


I.ines  to  tbe  Devil. 


Stupendous  Devil !  never  have  I  seen 

Addressed  to  you  a  solitary  line — 
And  so,  Old  Nick,  I  will  allay  my  spleen 

And  dedicate  to  you  a  rhyme  of  mine : 
I  cannot  praise  you  much,  for  I  have  got 

No  good  impression  of  your  real  worth  ; 
And  then  you^re  ugly — but  that's  the  lot 

Of  some  poor  devils  I  have  met  on  earth. 

I  never  saw  you,  as  I  recollect, 

And,  truly  speaking,  trust  I  never  may — 
When  my  long  journey  comes,  I  hope,  expect, 

And  pray,  that  it  may  be  the  other  way. 
Old  Scratch,  I  never  liked  you  very  well. 

Because  I  have  good  reason  to  believe 
That  you  played  hob  with  Adam,  and  they  tell 

How  you  beguiled  our  good  old  mother  Eve. 


iLND    LOCAL   LYRICS,  33 

At  San  Francisco,  where  I  am  installed, 

I've  heard  you  mentioned  morning,  night  and  noon — 
Your  name's  a  by-word — and  I've  heard  it  called 

In  every  street,  as  well  as  each  saloon. 
That  you  have  many  friends  residing  here, 

I'll  say,  Old  Serpent,  that  I  have  no  doubt — 
You  help  them  into  business,  but  I  fear 

You  leave  them  then,  and  never  help  them  out. 

Fve  heard  it  said  that  you  will  soon  be  chained, 

And  thus  remain  at  least  a  thousand  years — 
But  even  though  your  fate  is  thus  ordained, 

I  shall  not  pity  you,  or  e'en  shed  tears. 
If  you  are  thus  confined,  and  cannot  come 

To  steal  our  souls  away,  there  are  a  few 
(Although  for  worlds  I  would  not  number  one) 

Who  will  not  fail  to  find  their  way  to  you. 

If  your  Satanic  Majesty  will  but  \ 

Be  angry  with  me  just  for  speaking  plain, 
And  keep  your   doors  against  me  ever  shut, 

I'll  pledge  that  I'll  not  troulde  you  again. 
Just  keep  away  from  me — leave  me  alone, 

I'll  do  my  best  to  keep  away  from  you — 
For  as  regards  yourself,  I'll  freely  own. 

That  "  distance  lends  enchantment  to  the  view." 


]IIatriinoiii.^l   Joy§. 


My  marriage  as  an  act  was  wise, 

Above  all  other  acts  in  life, 
For  I  can  gaze  in  two  fond  eyes, 

And  call  their  fair  possessor  wife. 
I^m  proud  of  little  mouths  to  feed  ; 

It  does  me  good  to  see  them  fed  ; 
Long  of  a  wife  1  stood  in  need, 

'Till  now  I've  one  who  kneads  my  bread. 


34  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

It  makes  me  happy,  I  declare, 

To  notice  one  soul-cheering  sign — 
My  little  girl  has  jet  black  hair, 

And  nose  the  very  shape  of  mine. 
I  never  fear  an  angry  word 

When  I  away  to  town  have  been, 
Nor  would  I  be  afraid  to  board 

A  dozen  young  and  handsome  men. 

A  man's  but  half  a  pair  of  shears 

Who  lives  along  without  a  wife, 
And  though  he  lives  a  hundred  years. 

He  never  lives  but  half  a  life  ; 
He's  always  out  of  humor,  health, 

And  very  often,  I  believe — 
Though  he  may  be  a  man  of  wealth — 

He's  sadly  out  at  knees  and  sleeve. 

He  plods  along  without  a  wife 

'Till  past  the  age  of  manhood,  when 
He  muses  on  his  wretched  life 

And  thinks  of  what  he  might  have  been  ; 
Then  in  the  bowl  he  seeks  relief — 

His  last  example  is  the  best — 
He  dies,  and  like  a  punished  thief, 

Becomes  a  warning  to  the  rest. 


Tlie  Tillage  Book-keeper. 

Cubanus  Root  was  reckoned  skilled 

In  mathematic  lore  ; 
A  high  position,  2,  he  filled — 

Accountant  in  a  store. 
His  principal  was  pleased  to  see 

Progression  in  his  clerk, 
And  thai  he  took,  from  principle, 

An  interest  in  his  work. 


AND    LOCAL    LYRICS.  35 

Whene'er  a  dance  or  ball  came  off, 

Cube  Root  was  always  sought ; 
But,  likin<i^  not  sucli  foolish  things, 

Cube  set  them  down  4  n  U. 
Sometimes,  from  miscellaneous  jobs, 

An  evening  to  beguile, 
He'd  call  on  Miss  Cellana  Snobs, 

And  chat  with  her  awhile. 


Her  figure  pleased  him  well,  you  see. 

For  she  was  fortune  8 
In  having  many  graces  which 

He  could  not  numerate  ; 
And  in  addition  unto  these, 

She  had  no  small  amount 
Of  knowledge,  which  the  book-keeper 

Took  into  the  account. 


Content  with  Miss  Cellana's  love, 

Cube  felt  extremely  blest, 
And  oft  alleged  he  didn't  care 

A  fraction  for  the  rest. 
So  to  a  Justice  he  applied. 

Who,  when  the  job  was  done, 
Had  figured  out  that  two  fond  hearts 

Amounted  but  2  1. 


Cube's  old  employer,  growing  rich, 

Through  his  book  keeper's  aid, 
Made  a  "  division  "  in  the  stock, 

And  set  him  up  in  trade. 
By  wealth  and  love  thus  40-fied, 

Ere  long  their  sum  of  joy 
In  life  was  fairly  multiplied — 

They  had  a  lovely  boy. 


36  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

The  rule  that  Cube  had  followed  long, 

Adopted  still  the  same — 
Nerer  to  make  a  figure  wrong, 

The  "  rule  of  three  ^'  became. 
^Till  now,  this  happy  family 

Has  wealth  and  high  renown, 
And  Cube,  the  clerk  has  lived  to  be 

The  Squire  Root  of  the  town. 


Ideal  and  Real. 


My  friends  had  often  talked  of  her  to  me — 

Spoken  in  glowing  language  of  her  mind, 

And  made  her  heart  the  crowning  seat  of  grace ; 

They  had  with  one  accord  made  her  young  soul 

The  temple  of  all  goodness,  whose  bright  ports 

Were  never  entered  by  a  shade  of  guile  ; 

They  were  profuse  in  granting  her  all  praise, 

And  making  her  a  being  scarce  below 

The  angels  dwelling  in  the  realms  above. 

I  ne'er  had  seen  her,  save  in  pleasing  dreams, 

When  in  the  calm  and  silent  hours  of  night, 

Closed  in  the  arms  of  Morpheus,  I  lay, 

And  conscious  only  of  the  visions  bright, 

In  which  the  face  and  form  of  my  ideal 

Beamed  with  a  lustre,  which,  to  watchful  eyes, 

Were  far  too  dazzling  for  the  sense  of  sight. 

I  had  not  seen  her,  yet  to  me  she  seemed 

A  boon  companion,  monitor  and  friend. 

I  was  a  minor,  and  a  miner  then 

Had  sought  alone  this  boasted  land  of  goM, 

And  with  successful  energy  had  plied 

The  useful  implements  of  honest  toil. 

Fortune  had  favored  every  work  of.  mine, 

And  worldly  riches  lay  at  my  command. 

I  longed  to  see  my  fancy's  bright  ideal — 

To  tell  her  of  my  love,  and  let  her  weigh 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS.  37 

In  scales  minute  its  strength  and  purity. 
And  chance  soon  favored  rae  and  my  desire, 
For,  Norval  like,  she  left  her  father's  house  ; 
But  unlike  Norval,  she  no  servant  took  ; 
But  with  her  fond  and  anxious  parents,  she 
Commenced  a  journey  o'er  the  tiresome  plains. 
High  mountains,  alkili,  and  clouds  of  dust 
Were  freely  mingled  with  experienced  ills  ; 
And  yet  the  courage  of  this  little  band — 
Higher  than  mercury  in  summer's  sun, 
Impelled  them  onward  to  theii  journeys  end. 
With  joy  supreme  I  learned  her  advent  here, 
And  tried  my  best  to  fit  my  youthful  heart 
For  the  reception  of  its  spirit  bride. 

I  gathered  all  my  youthful  lays, 

In  which  she  ever  was  the  theme, 
And  marked  the  strains  that  breathed  the  praise 

Of  the  sweet  idol  of  my  dream. 

I  wandered  forth  among  the  bowers. 
Where  Flora's  brightest  offerings  are. 

And  culled  from  thence  the  fairest  flowers 
To  deck  my  dear  ideal's  hair. 

I  choose  the  gentle  twilight  hour 

To  make  my  hearts  fond  message  known. 

I  met  her,  and  at  once  the  power 

That  ruled  my  heart  for  months  had  flown. 

She  was  an  uncouth,  v«illy  maid. 

With  freckled  face  and  fiery  hair, 
I  threw  a  boot-jack  at  the  jade. 

And  left  the  town  in  mad  despair. 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS  , 
The  Sleepy  Deacon. 


FOUNDED    ON   FACT. 


My  father^s  a  minister,  not  to  Spain, 

But  of  the  Presbyterian  order, 
He  lives  in  a  town  near  Lake  Champlain, 
And  has  preached  to  the  people  again  and  again 

Who  dwell  on  its  beautiful  border. 

In  his  life,  he  has  many  a  laurel  won 

Where'er  he  has  filled  his  station  ; 
His  duty  thus  far  has  been  faithfully  done, 
And  he's  worthy,  1^11  own,  of  a  worthier  son 

And  a  better  congregation. 

Don't  raise  your  curiosity  higher, 

Twill  be  in  vain  I  reckon  ; 
Tis  not  my  purpose  to  tune  my  lyre. 
To  sing  of  the  deeds  of  my  reverend  sire, 

But  a  song  of  his  sleepy  deacon. 

Deacon  F.  was  as  worthy  a  man,  it's  true. 

As  e'er  weiit  to  my  fathers  meeting  ; 
Each  Sunday  he  sat  in  the  same  old  pew, 
And,  I'm  sorry  to  say,  ere  the  sermon  was  through, 
He  was  always  soundly  sleeping. 

While  my  father  was  telling  of  Jonah,  who  slept 

While  the  angry  sea  was  roc*  ring. 
Or  e'en  of  our  Saviour,  who  bitterly  wept 
O'er  his  drowsy  disciples,  the  deacon  kept 

His  peace,  save  the  sound  of  his  snoring. 

The  deacon  had  tried  every  method  to  keep 

His  weary  eyes  from  closing. 
But,  in  spite  of  his  cloves  and  tobacco,  would  sleep 
Eesist  all  his  efforts  and  over  him  creep. 

And  he  soon  would  be  sweetly  reposing. 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS.  39 

Each  Sunday  the  act  was  ever  the  same, 
And  was  played  by  the  same  old  creature  ; 

To  keep  awake  he  would  try  in  vain, 

So  he'd  tune  up  his  nose  to  its  music  again, 
For  his  nose  was  his  prominent  feature. 

His  nose,  as  I've  hinted,  was  large  and  long, 

And  his  snoring  resembled  thunder  ; 
It  would  drown  the  preaching  the  prayer  and  song, 
And  the  stranger  who  happened  to  be  with  the  throng 

Would  always  stare  and  wonder. 

The  churchmen  forever  were  sounding  alarms 

To  the  wonderful  one  of  their  number  ; 
But  Morpheus  temptingly  opened  his  arms, 
And  the  deacon,  as  usual,  would  yield  to  his  charms, 

And  doze  away  Sunday  in  slumber. 

To  see  a  steady  minister's  son 

Is  considered  a  terrible  omen ; 
For  so  many  are  given  to  folly  and  fun. 
Each  minister's,  boys  has  unwittingly  won 

A  very  suspicious  cognomen. 

I  was  rather  a  wayward  boy,  I'll  own, 

But  as  fearless  and  bold  as  a  lion  ; 
One  Sunday,  I  said,  in  a  joking  tone. 
That  I  would  beat  Morpheus  ofif  his  throne. 

If  it  took  a  rod  of  iron. 

To  the  meeting-house  stove  I  stealthily  sped — 

For  my  mind  was  made  up,  and  no  flinching — 
I  heated  the  tongs  to  a  fiery  red. 
And  cautiously  pointed  them  toward  his  head. 

And  I  reckon  his  nose  got  a  pinching. 
The  scene  that  followed  what  I  had  done 

I'm  sure  there's  no  need  of  detailing  ; 
But  the  victory  over  the  deacon  was  won, 
And  he  owns  that  the  minister's  rascally  son 

Cured  him  of  a  grievous  failing.  ^,.«*«==«=a=^^   * 

/^  OF   THK  ^^ 

\  U'NIVEBSITY  \ 


40 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 
A  Pathetic  Ballade 


Young  Billy  Dash  loved  Susan  Smash 

Almost  to  distraction ; 

He  cared  not  a  fraction 
For  the  rest  of  the  damsals  in  town  ; 

For  Susan^s  blue  eyes, 

Her  tender  replies, 

Her  hair  so  jetty 

And  face  so  pretty 
Would  bring  the  most  stubborn  heart  down 

To  worship  a  smile, 

With  fear  all  the  while 
It  might  possibly  change  to  a  frown. 

Well,  Susan  was  sweet,  and  she  dressed  very  neat, 

She'd  a  gem  of  a  nose. 

And  lips  like  a  rose 
That  opens  to  the  rays  of  the  sun  ; 

She'd  a  form  like  a  fairy 

And  manners  so  airy, 

That  each  little  foot 

Was  so  pretty  to  "  boot.'' 
And  so  light  that  its  owner  could  run 

O'er  the  meadow  and  grove. 

Where  she  often  would  rove 
When  her  spinning  and  weaving  was  done. 

Billy  Dash  mended  shoes,  sold  novels  and  news 

Until  Sunday  came  round. 

When  he  always  was  found 
Arrayed  in  his  broadcloth  so  blue. 

Giving  business  the  lurch 

For  the  good  of  the  church, 

And  plodding  along 

With  the  church  going  throng. 
Or  sitting  alone  in  his  pew ; 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS.  41 

Where,  I'm  sorry  to  say, 
He  would  stop  the  whole  day 
And  gaze  at  sweet  Susan,  its  true, 

Young  Susan  Smash  would  chat  with  Bill  Dash, 

Would  ask  him  the  news 

And  the  price  of  his  shoes, 
And  converse  in  a  manner  so  winning  ; 

She  would  gaze  in  his  face 

With  such  goodness  and  grace, 
Not  to  love  her  would  surely  be  sinning ; 

Sometimes  she  would  stay 

At  his  shop  o^er  the  way 

'Till  her  mother  would  say, 

Susan  Smash,  lack-a-day. 
Come  back  to  your  weaving  and  spinning. 

But  in  process  of  time,  I  must  say  in  my  rhyme, 

Billy's  hopes  were  all  smashed 

And  his  happiness  dashed 
To  the  earth  by  a  crafty  attorney, 

Who  had  seen  Susan^s  face, 

And  engaged  in  the  case. 

And  had  pleaded  so  hard, 

That  she  pledged  to  discard 
Billy  Dash,  whom  she  told,  in  a  horn,  he 

Might  win  a  fair  maid 

While  he  worked  at  a  trade 

So  greatly  below 

Her  professional  beau, 
Who  had  practiced  throughout  California. 

Alas,  for  Bill  Dash  1  he  failed  with  a  crash, 
Lost  leather  and  cash, 
Went  down  with  a  smash, 
Got  wet  in  a  splash, 


42  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

Took  the  canker  and  rash, 
And  lately  our  old  undertaker 

Placed  some  white  marble  stones 
O'er  the  still  whiter  bones 
Of  Billy,  the  village  shoemaker. 


Tlie  Frazer  Fever. 


Frazer  Riveras  the  topic  wherever  we  go, 
With  the  sinner,  the  saint,  the  belle  and  the  beau — 
At  the  balls,  at  the  courts,  at  the  church  and  the  show 
'Tis  the  theme  of  the  high,  the  dream  of  the  low — 
'Tis  a  subject  on  which  all  the  bummers  can  blow, 
And  newspapers  publish  much  more  than  they  know — 
It  aiFords  a  good  chance  for  runners  to  crow, 
And  brag  about  boats  that  are  leaky  and  slow — 
'Till  wild  with  excitement  the  people  all  grow. 
And  start  to  the  mines  from  above  and  below. 
Without  ever  thinking  their  cake  may  be  dough — 
Without  calculating  the  cost  or  the  woe — 
Without  preparation  for  meeting  a  foe. 
Who  w^ould  skin  them  alive  for  a  dollar  or  so — 

'Tis  a  subject  on  which  we  are  crazy. 
We  fancy  we  see  unmistakable  signs 
Of  riches,  for  which  every  plebeian  pines — 
So  every  one,  who,  to  be  wealthy  inclines, 
Starts  off  to  dam  rivers,  and,  may  be,  the  mines — 
Rogues  think  it  a  country  for  cutting  up  shines, 
The  artist  for  sketches,  the  poet  for  lines. 
The  priest  for  his  bacon,  the  bummer  for  rhinds. 
Or  a  place  to  get  rich  without  hurting  their  spines, 

A  perfect  God  send  for  the  lazy. 

Tis  certainly  strange  that  the  people  will  be 
So  strangely  excited,  and  stranger  to  me 
For  the  land  of  the  stranger,  our  land  of  the  free, 
Will  be  slighted  by  mortals  of  every  degree — 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS.  43 

That  all  to  the  new  El  Dorado  will  flee, 

Without  knowing  why  they  are  going  ; 
That  the  goods  in  the  country,  and  goods  in  the  town, 
From  rings  to  rockets,  and  rockers  down. 
From  rigging  for  boats  to  a  rig  for  a  clown, 
Or  a  collar  for  somebody's  wife,  or  a  hound, 
Are  named  for  this  river  of  wondrous  renown, 
Until  Frazer's  respected  as  much  as  a  crown, 
Until  Frazer's  the  adjective,  Frazer  the  noun. 
And  Frazer  the  bye-word  of  Smith  and  of  Brown, 
And  the  only  place  worthy  of  knowing. 

Mankind  the  big  stories  are  ready  to  read — 
Mankind  to  be  humbugged  are  willing  indeed — 
When  they  are  excited  'tis  no  use  to  plead — 
The  side  that  is  brightest  is  all  they  will  heed — 
One  side  of  the  picture  is  all  that  they  need — 
They  dream  of  nought  else  than  of  striking  the  lead — 
They  kneel  but  to  Mammon,  embracing  the  creed. 
That  fortune  depends  on  the  swiftness  of  speed — 

So  they  rush  to  the  banks  of  the  Frazer. 
But  a  damper  they  find  to  their  visions  of  gold — 
A  sequel  to  tales  so  excitedly  told — 
A  check  to  the  hopes  of  the  young  and  the  old — 
That  the  water  is  high — that  the  weather  is  cold — 
That  the  Indians,  also,  are  plenty  and  bold — 
That  there's  trails  to  be  cut,  and  rocks  to  be  rolled — 
That  the  poorest  of  grub  isn't  suffered  to  mould  ; 
They  find  they  have  been  most  confoundedly  sold, 

And  the  fever  cooled  off  in  a  measure. 

But  there's  no  use  in  talking  or  writing  at  all, 
Or  back  to  consistency  trying  to  call 
The  people,  or  bidding  them  look  for  a  squall, 
Or  to  wait  until  Fall,  when  the  river  will  fall : 
They're  bound  to  ''  shoot  off"  like  a  derringer  ball, 
And  take  all  the  desperate  chances. 


44  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

'Tis  right  that  mankind  by  experience  learn — 
That  by  their  exertions  their  knowledge  they  earn — 
That  they  find  for  themselves  every  path  has  a  turn ; 
Bnt  they  really  should  muster  a  little  concern 
For  themselves,  and  should  muster  the  means  to  return 
When  they  find  that  the  fever  is  ceasing  to  burn, 
And  that  truths  are  as  strano-e  as  romances. 


Acrostics. 


Jennie,  to  scribble  what  he  likes, 
Each  scribbler  thinks  his  real  right  is  ; 
Now  one  extols,  now  one  condemns, 
Now  one  excessively  polite  is — 
I'll  try  and  most  impartial  be. 
Endeavoring,  also,  to  be  human, 
Make  Jennie  my  selected  theme 
And  bear  in  mind  she  is  a  woman. 

Nature  has  given  her  a  mind. 
Developed  much  by  education  ; 
Enhanced  with  beauty,  yet  none  find 
Vain  feelings  in  the  combination  ; 
I'm  pleased  indeed  to  see  that  she 
Luxuriates  in  good  opinion. 
Long  of  our  hearts  may  Jennie  reign, 
Enchanting  queen  with  full  dominion. 

Agatha  too  in  whose  bright  eyes 
Guilt  cannot  find  repose  a  minute ; 
Agatha  with  a  wealth  of  soul, 
That  has  a  wealth  of  wisdom  in  it. 
Heaven  never  formed  two  brighter  stars, 
And  gave  to  each  such  wealth  of  beauty  ; 
Mankind  acknowledge  homage  due 
And  own  allegiance  as  duty. 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS,  45 

Now  let  me  as  a  friend  of  each. 

Declare  for  each  a  friendly  feeling, 

Encouraging  each  one  to  be 

Vigilant  in  deed  and  dealing; 

I  really  wish  that  each  may  find 

Life's  pathway  fraught  with  real  pleasures  ; 

Live  happy  here  and  then  at  last 

Embrace  Heavens  brightest,  richest  treasures. 


Tliis  Picture  and  That. 


The  bonny  bright  birds  in  the  sweet  sunny  spring 

Melodious  matins  and  choruses  sing  ; 
Though  delightful  their  notes  they  are  nolhing  to  thine, 

But  the  notes  of  a  Bankrupt  are  better  than  mine. 

The  dew-drops,  the  diamonds,  or  stars  in  the  skies 
Are  brilliant  but  nothing  compared  to  thine  eyes  ; 

Thou  hast  eyes  that  eclipse  every  star  in  the  sky, 
But  murphy  potatoes  have  better  than  I. 

How  fleet  the  gazelle  as  it  flits  o'er  the  lawn, 

How  surprisingly  swift  "  on  the  foot"  is  the  fawn  ; 

Thy  footsteps  are  fleeter  by  far,  but  'tis  known 
That  the /bo^  of  a  hill  is  as  fleet  as  my  own. 

When  the  fields  are  all  clad  in  their  verdure  of  green, 
One  feels  quite  enclianted,  so  smiling  the  scene  ; 

Thy  smiles  are  enchanting,  though  often  I  "grin," 
I  can't  get  a  **  smile  "  for  I  havn't  the  tin. 

The  mines  of  Golconda  and  those  of  our  State 

Are  rich — those  of  Frazer  are  thought  to  be  great ; 

But  in  thought  and  in  mind  thou  hast  wealth  I'll  admit, 
But,  though  long  I've  "  mined  "  I  now  long  for  a  "bit." 

I  have  seen  at  a  glance,  that  a  glance  of  thine  eyes 
Can  electrify  thousands  and  fill  with  surprise 

The  many  whose  eyes  are  enchained  upon  thee. 
While  creditors^  only,  are  looking  for  me. 


46  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

To  


Miss  Bell  I  have  roped  in  to  be 

The  subject  of  my  song, 
Although  she's  very  short,  I'll  say 

I've  known  her  very  long  ; 
Miss  Bell  is  very  proud  indeed, 

And  '  airy '  too,  as  well, 
In  truth  the  ones  who  know  her  best, 

All  call  her  "  Airy  Bell.'^ 

Although  in  grammar  Belle  is  called 

The  opposite  of  beau, 
'Tis  clear  that  she  is  not  opposed 

To  having  one  in  tow  ; 
And  by  her  anxious  guardian, 

^Tis  said,  Bell  has  been  told, 
She  should  have  brass  enough  to  get 

A  beau  who  had  some  gold. 

The  consequence  of  this  has  been 

With  many  tendered  things, 
Her  tender-hearted  lovers  have 

All  tendered  Bell  their  rings  ; 
Well,  Bell  receives  them  all  because. 

She  thinks  she  might  as  well. 
And  every  beau  is  proud  to  think 

That  he  can  ring  a  Belle, 

With  those  who  strive  to  win  her,  I 

For  worlds  would  never  cope. 
For  rather  than  to  take  the  Bell 

I  would  prefer  the  rope  ; 
Although  she's  beautiful  and  proud, 

As  well  as  very  young, 
I  never  would  accept  a  Belle 

With  such  a  cutting  tongue. 


LOCAL  LYRICS 

AS   SUNG   AT   THE 

IKEO  AID  MEIODEOI, 

SAN  FRANCISCO. 


Number  I. 


Our  world  is  called  a  world  of  change, 

And,  friends,  it  mighty  strange  is, 
That  where  we  have  so  little  change 

There  are  so  many  changes ; 
Of  serious  changes  every  day 

We  stand  in  serious  danger, 
And  in  my  songs  I'll  tell  you  how 

These  changes  "  strike  a  stranger.'' 

1  will  not  change  my  topic  yet, 

But  say  there  is  no  knowing 
How  great  amount  of  cliango  it  takes 

To  keep  these  changes  going  ; 
The  ladies  here,  for  pocket  change. 

Have  really  got  a  passion. 
But  spend  their  change  for  change  of  dress 

As  changes  now  the  fashion. 


48  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

Til  ere  are  the  changes  of  the  moon, 

And  changes  of  the  seasons, 
Which  changes  are  accounted  for 

On  philosophic  reasons  ; 
And  of  some  other  changes,  too, 

I'll  give  you  some  selections, 
There's  change  of  change,  and  politics 

Here,  just  before  elections. 

Our  little  misses  spend  their  change 

For  crinolines  and  trimming, 
And  think,  when  they  have  made  the  change, 

That  they  are  changed  to  women ; 
Then  quicker  than  the  weathercock 

Can  change  on  yonder  steeple. 
They  fall  in  love  with  some  one's  change, 

And  change  to  married  people. 

The  ladies  are  required  to  change 

Their  partners  here  at  dances — 
To  change  them  for  a  longer  term 

Sometimes  they  take  the  chances  ; 
For,  m'irry  here  some  pretty  miss, 

And  take  her  from  her  mother, 
And — presto  change — through  love  of  change 

She  runs  off  with  another  I 


The  merchants  change  the  price  of  goods, 

To  suit  the  changing  times  here, 
And  every  evening  when  I  sing 

I  have  a  change  of  rhymes  here  ; 
Our  sporting  men  invest  their  change 

On  matches,  games  and  races, 
And  "  bummers,'^  wnen  they^re  asked  for  change. 

Will  change  their  hoarding  places. 


AND    LOCAL   LYRICS.  49 

There^s  many  of  our  public  men, 

'Tis  true,  as  well  as  strange, 
Have  changed  their  private  characters 

By  stealing  public  change  ; 
Their  fortunes  changing  suddenly 

From  poverty  to  wealth, 
They  think  a  change  of  climate  is 

Essential  to  their  health. 

Chief  Curtis  went  and  found  the  change 

That  Captain  Bennett  buried. 
But  when  he  brought  it  into  town 

Down  to  the  bank  'twas  carried  ; 
They  wouldn't  give  him  any  change 

For  bringing  it  about, 
And  so  he  quickly  changed  his  mind, 

And  took  the  money  out. 

But  ah  !  how  soon  one's  fortunes  change — 

Our  Chief  arretted  was  ; 
Bell  had  it  done,  I'm  told,  because 

He  thouglit  he  had  good  cause  ; 
We  live  in  such  a  changing  world, 

And  lawyers  are  so  strange, 
That  likely  he  will  come  out  best 

Who  has  the  most  of  change. 


Two  undertakers,  here  in  town, 

I  undertake  to  say, 
From  the  dead  house  did  undertake 

To  take  a  corpse  away  ; 
Each  claimed  the  right  to  undertake 

The  undertaking  labor. 
One  undertaker  nearly  killed 

His  undertaking  neighbor. 


50  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

A  lawyer  then  did  undertake 

To  clear  the  undertaker  ; 
The  State  did  undertake   to  prove 

The  man  a  great  law  breaker  ; 
But  friends,  Til  undertake  to  say 

These  undertaking  fiends 
Had  better  undertake  to  be 

In  future  better  friends. 


No.  II. 


Humbug  is  certainly  the  go, 

It  seems  to  me  surprising 
That  some  new  humbug  every  day 

Some  one  is  advertising  ; 
'Tis  sadly  true,  I'll  prove  to  you, 

La  bagatelle  is  courted, 
The  greater  now  the  humbug  is 

The  better  it's  supported. 

There's  Mr.  Weeks  and  Cora  Ann 

Cut  up  a  curious  caper, 
They  came  to  San  Francisco,  and 

Then  started  here  a  paper  ; 
''  The  Athenasum,"  the  sheet  was  called, 

'Twas  highly  literary — 
As  far  as  swindling  is  concerned. 

They  were  successful,  very. 

Five  dollars  was  the  price  they  charged 

For  the  literary  beacon — 
To  Mrs.  Cora  Anna  Weeks 

The  public  had  to  weaken  ; 
Five  dollars  here,  five  dollars  there, 

And  many  a  place  she's  been  to, 
She  beat  both  Stockton  and  the  Bay 

And  cleaned  out  Sacramento. 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS.  51 

Tis  said  that  our  Assembly  men 

All  listened  to  the  stoi\y, 
And  showed  a  deal  of  gallantry 

To  Mrs.  Anna  Cora  ; 
She  got  a  V.  from  every  one, 

And  felt  elated,  very, 
They  couldn^t  help  come  out  to  her 

She  was  so  literary. 


Now  in  the  "  Glimpse"  they've  gone  away, 

These  literary  nymphs. 
Again  of  them  those  who  are  out 

Can  never  catch  a  glimpse  ; 
Though  each  of  us  is  out  a  Y., 

Don't  let  the  matter  vex  us — 
They  played  the  very  game,  we're  told, 

In  Canada  and  Texas. 

The  Steamboat  Navigation  clique 

Got  up  an  opposition, 
And  said  tliey'd  carry  people  cheap 

And  all  in  good  condition  ; 
In  many  an  honest  miner's  heart 

A  love  of  home  was  kindled, 
But  when  they  got  down  to  the  Bay 

They  found  they  had  been  swindled. 

Such  humbugs  oft  have  taken  place  ,  : 

Regarding  ocean  steamers, 
And  let  us,  friends,  no  more  be  fooled 

l^Y  such  humbugging  schemers  ; 
The  Sacramento  humbug,  friends,  ,. 

Tm  sure  will  do  to  brag  on. 
Let's  wait  and  go  across  the  plains 

In  Overtones  steam  wagon. 


52  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

The  Stoval,  and  the  Archy  case — 

Long  time  in  litigation — 
Soon  as  the  fees  run  out,  was  brought 

Unto  a  termination  ; 
Now  Black  Republicans  rejoice, 

And  niggers  all  feel  antic, 
And  Archy  seems  to  think  his  life 

Has  been  indeed  romantic. 


Our  landlords  over  all  the  town — 

It's  true,  upon  my  word,  now — 
Are  getting  most  suspicious, 

That  men  won't  pay  their  board  now  ; 
No  matter  what  your  business  is 

(The  times  are  getting  funny) 
You'll  hardly  get  a  good  "  square  meal  '^ 

Unless  you  have  the  money. 

The  credit  game  is  quite  played  out, 

And  landlords  don't  feel  able, 
In  these  hard  times,  to  have  a  lot 

Of  "  dead  heads  "  at  the  table  ; 
But,  bless  my  star?^,  we  needn't  starve. 

If  we  are  but  half-witted. 
We've  got  "  free  lunches  "  through  the  town, 

Where  dead  heads  are  admitted. 


The  news  from  the  Atlantic  States 

Brought  out  by  the  Sonora, 
Says  Corey,  once  an  actor,  now 

Is  Rev.    Sydney  Corey  ; 
He  got  religion  first,  and  then 

He  changed  his  occupation — 
And  Broderick,  in  the  Senate,  too, 

Has  made  a  Q:reat  sensation. 


AND    LOCAL   LYRICS.  of  thr     '^  S!^ 

i\^i:RSITY 
Orville,  or  Awful  Gardner,  it  ,^,    ==     ^^  -^ 

Is  said  could  not  refuse,  there,  ~3il,^l^^^s^ 

To  take  religion,  and  a  shop 

Well  stocked  with  boots  and  shoes  there  j 
Religion's  not  a  bootless  thing 

To  him  at  any  rate,  now. 
And  would  he  work  for  good  of  souls^ 

His  chances  will  be  great,  now. 


No.  III. 


Sam  Brannan  started  here  a  bank, 

And  made  an  awful  bluster. 
And  every  body  seemed  to  think 

His  bank  would  be  a  '  buster'  ; 
Of  signs  and  circulars  I'm  told, 

He  ordered  quite  a  cargo. 
But  *  faro  banks '  kept  going  on 
And  so  did  Wells  k  Fargo. 

Sam  hung  his  sign  up  very  high. 

That  men  might  be  attracted, 
And  in  imagination,  he 

Much  business  here  transacted  ; 
Compared  with  other  banking  guns, 

Sam  thought  himself  a  cannon, 
'Till  something  bursted  Brannan's  bank 

And  Moulton  bursted  Brannan. 

Although  I'm  told,  he's  gone  away, 

'Tis  true  as  well  as  funny, 
That  in  the  rooms  he  occupied 

Men  still  deposit  money, 
And  quite  unlike  the  first  concern, 

It  is'nt  very  risky — 
For  all  who  leave  their  money  there 

Can  get  its  worth  in  whisky. 


54  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

They  Ve  got  a  nice  steam  ferry-boat, 

I'll  mention  in  my  ditty, 
The  San  Antonio,  which  runs 

From  here  to  Oakland  city  ; 
She  is.  as  Oakland  ladies,  fair. 

And  friends  my  free  advice  is 
To  patronize  her  well  because 

She  runs  at  Lyceum  prices. 

The  Contra  Costa's  running  too 

And  brags  on  her  condition, 
As  well  as  her  abilities 

To  kill  the  opposition  ; 
Kemember  that  monopolies 

Are  bigoted  and  frosty, 
And  that  she's  still  a  contra  boat 

And  once  was  very  costy. 


Old  Brigham  Young,  the  Mormon  man, 

Put  on  some  foolish  airs. 
And  stated  that  he  knew  enough 

To  manage  his  affairs  ; 
He  told  his  people  and  his  wives 

About  Old  Uncle  Sam, 
Said  he,  I  can  protect  your  lives, 

I  do  not  care  a  farthing. 

Now  Uncle  Sam  was  wide  awake 

And  heard  of  Brigham's  braging, 
So  he  run  up  the  stars  and  stripes 

And  quickly  sent  the  flag  in  ; 
Old  Brigham  bolted,  and  through  fear 

That  he  would  get  a  trimming, 
He  left  the  city  far  behind. 

But  took  away  his  women. 


AND    LOCAL   LYRICS.  6$ 

Now  Uncle  Sam  can  never  hust^ 

Although  he's  called  Si  buster, 
And  when  a  nation  asks  for  trust, 

He's  able  friends  to  trust  her  ; 
He  takes  a  true  straightforward  course, 

As  steady  as  a  deacon, 
But  when  a  nation  puts  on  airs. 

He's  bound  to  make  it  weaken. 


The  great  Dred  Scott  decision  friends, 

A  thing  of  no  account  now. 
To  print,  will  cost  our  Government 

A  fabulous  amount  now  ; 
Some  twenty  thousand  dollars  it 

Has  ordered  in  round  figures, 
Enough  to  buy  Dred  Scott  himself 

And  forty  other  niggers. 

'Tis  said  that  yesterday  a  man, 

In  no  way  reckoned  crazy, 
Walked  through  the  street  while  on  his  back 

Were  chalked  the  words,  I'm  lazy  ; 
No  doubt  the  mischief  making  imp 

Who  cut  the  curious  caper. 
Supposed  him  a  policeman  or 

Reporter  for  a  paper. 

The  Mint  Investigations  prove 

The  Melter  and  Refiner 
Had  better  diggings  right  in  town 

Than  any  country  miner  ; 
Though  Uncle  Sam  has  thousands  lost 

He  cannot  well  dispond  now. 
He  may  get  back  some  seven  per  cent. 

Oa  the  official  bond  now. 


56  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

No.  lY. 

Each  day  comes  round  with  something  new, 

And,  as  I  have  dominion 
Of  local  items,  I'll  express 

In  public,  my  opinion  ; 
And  I  hould  I,  in  the  item  line, 

Get  up  too  large  a  cargo, 
In  order  to  express  my  mind 

I'll  call  on  Wells  &  Fargo. 

Up  at  the  Police  Court,  to-day, 

On  getting  items,  bent. 
At  ten  o'clock,  or  thereabouts, 

I  fixed  myself  and  went ; 
I  saw  Judge  Coon  and  Col.  James, 

And  Counselor  McNair,  too, 
Some  fighting  men,  and  some  '*  dead  drunks,'' 

Besides  some  frail  and  fair,  too. 

There  is  an  auctioneer  in  town 

On  Tuesday  last  was  closed  here, 
Because  he  couldn't  pay  his  rent, 

I'll  say  it  is  supposed,  here  ; 
The  landlord's  name  was  Kelly,  who, 

The  auctioneer  molested, 
And  the  auctioneer,  for  an  assault. 

Had  Kelly  then  arrested. 

Nobody  saw  a  blow  exchanged. 

But  he  then  came  and  said 
By  selling  ^oods  at  auction,  he 

Had  made  his  daily  bread ; 
Coon  fined  the  man  a  dollar,  for 

'Twas  plainly  seen  that  Kelly, 
By  closing  out  the  auctioneer. 

Had  struck  him  in  the  b (stomach). 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS.  §7 

I  saw  the  brave  mechanic  there  g 

Who  whipped  his  wife — I  guess  he  m 

Thought  as  he  lived  on  Jessee  street,  ^ 

That  he  might  give  her  "jessee  ;" 
Or,  as  he  said,  ''  she'd  driven  him 

From  cellar  to  the  attic — 
For  a  mechanic,  too,  she  was 

Too  darned  aristocratic/^' 

Said  he  "  I^m  a  hard  working  man. 

And  why,  I  cannot  sabe, 
My  wife  and  daughter  should  wear  hoops, 

And  put  them  on  the  baby  ; 
Besides,  she  will  not  share  my  bed, 

Though  *'  cowld  "  is  now  the  weather  ; 
In  fact,  Judge  Coon,  your  honor,  sir, 

We  cannot  hitch  together/^' 

He  said  he  only  hit  her  once  ; 

Coon  thought  it  was  a  plenty, 
And  for  the  striking   luxury. 

His  fine  was  fixed  at  '*  twenty  ;" 
Our  friend  declared  that  four  pounds  Jin£ 

For  him  was  rather  rough  now, 
That  one  pound  fine  for  on^  fine  pound 

Was  certainly  enough,  now. 

A  Jew  then  got  up  near  the  Judge, 

A  dirty  bag  revealing 
Containing  several  figs  and  prunes 

Jim  Taylor  had  been  stealing  ; 
For  taking  tha  forbidden  fruity 

To  liquidate  the  blame, 
It  was  contended  mother  Eve 

One  time  had  done  the  same. 

They  need  amusements  at  the  Courts 
The  same  as  other  places, 


58  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

Policeman  Hess  expected  is 
To  look  up  all  the  cases  ; 

Judge  Coon  is  always  found  on  hand, 
Policemen  all  are  there,  too, 

They Ve  always  funny  amateurs, 
With  Counselor  McNair,  too. 

Mr.  Knabb,  for  whipping  Mrs.  Knabb, 

Policemen  nabbed,  of  course, 
She  had  got  tired  of  Mr.  Knabb, 

And  sued  him  for  divorce  ; 
Attorney  Tingly  plead  his  case, 

Quite  ably,  I  opine, 
But  Coon  of  the  poor  Mr.  Knabb 

Has  nabbed  five  dollars  fine. 

The  duel  hasn't  come  off  yet, 

Though  weapons  are  selected. 
And  though  by  many  men  about 

The  fight  has  been  expected, 
I'd  recommend,  for  safety  of 

The  parties  interested, 
To  publish  their  intentions,  till 

They  both  may  be  arrested. 

But  if  these  men  are  bound  to  fight, 

And  nothing  will  prevent  them, 
I'd  recommend  that  Brandeth's  pills 

As  bullets  should  content  them  ; 
No  noble  blood  will  then  be  spilled, 

Both  can  retain  their  places 
In  our  community,  although 

They  fight  at  fifteen  paces. 


AMD   LOCAL   LYRICS.  59 

No.  V. 

The  police  docket  yesterday 

Was  reckoned  small  for  Monday, 
But  forty-three  new  cases,  I 

Should  think  enough  for  one  day  ; 
Nineteen  D.  D.'s,  which  means  "  dead  drunks,^' 

To  the  temperance  cause  no  flattery, 
A  dozen  petty  thefts,  and  some 

Few  more  assaults  and  battery. 

There's  Mr.  Maderson,  a  man 

Whose  passion  needed  curbing, 
Assaults  one  Mrs.  Mellon,  thus 

You  see,  the  peace  disturbing  ; 
Coon  let  him  off,  but  told  him  to 

Be  careful  how  he  fell  on 
And  broke  the  peace,  by  damaging  , 

Another  persons  mellon. 

To  rig  up  something  now  to  draw 

The  bar  keepers  are  handy, 
A  pretty  face  or  heavenly  voice 

Is  used  for  selling  brandy  ; 
The  latest  plan  they  have  rigged  up 

Among  the  other  riggings, 
Is  to  rig  out  and  advertise 

A  map  of  Frazer  diggings. 

At  Steamboat  Point,  so  says  the  "  Call," 

Among  old  hulks  and  rigging, 
A  motely  crew  of  clamerom  men 

For  clams  are  daily  digging  ; 
With  pity  moved,  you  ask  the  crowd, 

Why  stand  you  there  and  shiver, 
"  WeVe  but  rehearsing '^  all  reply, 

"  WeWe  going  to  Frazer  River  J^ 


i 


60  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

I  The  stories  of  the  Frazer  mines 

r  A  love  of  gold  arouses, 

And  men  are  putting  out  their  lights 

And  shutting  up  their  houses  ; 
In  houses  where  you  see  no  lights^ 

Inquire  for  the  late  liver ^ 
And  you  are  told  invariably — 
He's  gone  to  Frazer  River. 

The  papers  nearly  all  agree 

That  Frazer  mines  are  wealthy, 
But  for  the  miners  pocket  though, 

The  journey  is  unhealthy  ; 
They  say  there  may  be  lots  of  gold 

In  Frazer  river  gravel. 
But  like  the  road  o'er  Jordan,  it 

Is  very  hard  to  travel. 

The  enterprise  of  Sullivan, 

News  dealer  is  surprising, 
He's  made  his  pile  by  enterprise  \ 

And  liberal  advertising ; 
When  he  got  his  papers  from  the  States, 

He  could't  wait  till  Monday, 
So  he  hired  a  steamer  all  alone. 

And  took  them  up  on  Sunday. 

Bar  keepers,  since  the  times  are  hard, 

Have  shown  a  deal  of  wit, 
And  nearly  all  here  at  the  Bay 

Sell  whisky  for  a  "  bit ;" 
And  some  of  them,  I've  found,  in  town. 

By  putting  in  more  water, 
Will  kindly  let  the  "  bummers  "  have 

Three  "snifters  "  for  a  quarter. 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS.  61 

At  the  Tremont  you  will  find  good  board, 

On  Pike  street  find  the  suckers, 
You'll  find  good  reading  in  the  "  Call," 

Good  jewelry  at  Tucker's  ; 
And  at  the  What  Cheer  House  you'll  find 

The  most  of  the  new  comers, 
And  round  the  free-lunch  tables  here 

You'll  often  find  the  "  bummers." 

Dear  friends,  I've  just  discovered  here, 

As  sure  as  I'm  a  sinner. 
Friend  Grifiith,  who  mav  well  be  called 

By  all,  the   "jolly  tinner  ;" 
You'll  always  find  a  jovial  soul 

In  him  in  any  weather  ; 
I  saw  him  first  six  years  ago — 
.   We  came  out  here  together. 

Friend  White,  on  California  street, 

Has  got  a  livery  stable, 
Where,  to  rig  out  a  first  rate  team, 

You'll  always  find  him  able  ; 
I'm  very  glad  to  see  him  here. 

And  now  my  free  advice  is 
To  patronise  friend  White,  who'll  please 

Both  in  his  teams  and  priceg. 

The  ladies  have  come  in  to-night— 

I  think  I  will  address  them. 
And  call  them  beautiful,  polite, 

And  lovely  too — God  bless  them  ; 
We  hope  to  see  them  every  night, 

To  prompt  us  on  to  duty, 
For  all  of  us  do  better  far 

When  we're  inspired  by  beauty. 


I 


62  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

I  No.  YI. 

^  The  great  excitement  of  tlie  time, 

That  has  but  started  lately, 
Has  had  its  bearing,  friends,  on  me, 

In  fact,  I've  felt  it  greatly  ; 
It's  quite  confounded  all  my  tunes. 

And  knocked  me  out  of  measure — 
All  day  I  think,  all  night  I  dream 

Of  nothing  else  but  Frazer. 

I  dream  of  gold  in  sums  untold. 

Of  snow  up  to  the  shoulders, 
And  think  no  bolder  man  than  I 

Is  there  among  the  boulders  ; 
In  visions  I  am  carried  off. 

Until  I  am  so  far  gone, 
I  hear  a  noise  that  wakes  me  up, 

And  find  I'm  talking  jargon. 

Then  in  my  mind  I  curse  the  mines, 

And  sink  again  to  slumber, 
Of  Indians  I'm  besetted  by 

A  most  terrific  number  ; 
"  Wake  pottelash  ya  chickemen, 

Yah  mika  hiyou  kultis, 
Or  clatawah,  yon  Boston  man, 

You  never  shall  insult  us." 

Surprised,  I*  get  on  the  Surprise, 

In  my  imagination. 
In  spite  of  both  the  Governor 

And  his  late  proclamation  ; 
They  take  away  my  pick  and  pan. 

My  shovel  and  my  rocker, 
Because  I've  got  no  clearances 

They  shove  me  in  the  locker. 

All  c/amerous  I  cry  for  clams — 
There's  none  for  me  I'm  told  there, 


AND    LOCAL   LYRICS.  63 


I  find  I  ana  completely  strapped, 
And  weatlier  strapping  cold  there  ; 

They  starve  me  so  that  I  become 
A  most  impetuous  fellow, 

And  when  I  get  to  **  Bellingham" 
For  ham  I  loudly  bellow. 

Vm  anxious  to  get  back  again, 

But  cannot  pay  my  passage, 
I  cannot  buy  a  "  penny  roll  '^ 

Or  small  "  Belogna  sausage  ;'' 
I  think,  if  I  could  steal  a  mule 

That  I  could  well  confide  in, 
I'd  come  by  land,  and  beat  the  time 

Of  Tom  McNabb  in  riding. 

While  at  the  mouth  of  Frazer  there, 

Neglected  I'm  sojournino;, 
That  e'er  I  left  the  Lyceum 

I  find  that  I  am  mourning  ; 
Myself  and  others  there,  in  fear 

Grim  death  will  soon  attack  us. 
Wish  we  again  could  Johnson  hear 

And  see  the  mouth  of  Backus. 

We  wish  that  we  could  once  again 

Be  here,  and  have  the  chances 
To  hear  the  charming  melodies 

And  witness  dazzling  dances  ; 
We  think  of  Phelps,  our  manager, 

To  see  him  we  desire, 
And  long  to  hear  friend  Wilson  say 

That  he  was  never  dryer. 

This,  friends,  was  my  experience, 

It  has  a  solemn  seeming, 
But  take  it  with  allowance,  for 

You  know  'twas  only  dreaming  ; 


i 


» 


64  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

And  if  my  dream  should  prove  untrue, 

Just  charge  it  to  late  lunches 
Washed  down  before  I  went  to  bed 
With  twenty  whisky  ^punches. 

For  selling  fruit  on  Sunday  last, 

A  man  w^as  tried  to-day  here, 
Coon  fined  him  fifty  and  declared 

The  law  we  must  obey  here  ; 
The  fruit  dealer  was  ragged,  sure, 

In  fact  was  nearly  suitless^ 
And  though  he  plead  his  best  with  Coon, 

His  efforts  were  but  fruitless. 

Two  barbers  there  were  tried  to-day 

For  keeping  open  places 
On  Sunday  last,  and  cutting  hair 

And  shaving  peoples  faces  ; 
'Twas  proved  they  soaped  their  customers 

From  five  o'clock  till  noon, 
But  in  spite  of  all  their  lawyers  aid. 

They  could'nt  soap  old  Coon. 

The  Post  Office  on  Sunday  last 

Was  open  all  the  morning, 
In  spite  of  Coon,  the  Sunday  law. 

And  every  other  warning  ; 
Would  ladies  here  an  orange  sell. 

Policemen  would  arrest  them, 
But  where  there  are  so  many  mails 

I  think  theyl  not  molest  them. 

The  example  Weller  thus  has  set, 
The  ignorant  folks  will  follow. 

Keep  open  Sundays  and  be  nabbed 
For  many  a  hard  earned  dollar  ; 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS,  6$ 


You  know  in  sin  and  everything 
Mankind  will  ape  their  betters. 

They'll  do  as  Weller  does,  because 
He  is  a  man  of  letters. 


i 


No,  YIL 

Of  hotel  keepers  here  in  town 

There's  some,  at  least,  are  schemers, 
So  anxious  to  get  hoarders^  they 

Will  even  board  the  steamers  ;  •  * 

To  take  the  traveling  public  in, 

As  well  as  take  their  specie, 
They  send  their  runners  on  to  meet 

The  people  at  Benicia. 

There's  Weygant  here,  the  man  in  town 

That  two  hotels  is  keeping. 
In  each  he  has  the  best  of  fare, 

Good  rooms  and  beds  to  sleep  in  ; 
His  boarders  all  look  plump  and  fat, 

And  none  I  hear  complaining, 
I  went  there  very  poor  myself, 

But  daily  now  I'm  gaining. 

A  first  class  house  the  Tremont  is, 

The  Clinton  clean  and  quiet, 
And  boarders  there  are  ne'er  disturbed 

By  any  noise  or  riot ; 
He  keeps  no  bar — that  is,  except, 

Musquito  bars  a  number, 
That  bar  them  out  from  biting  us 

While  we  securely  slumber. 

There's  Woodward,  of  the  What  Cheer  House, 

Undoubtedly  feels  gaily — 
'Tis  said  he  feeds,  to  say  the  least,  __  ^ 

Eleven  hundred  people  daily  ;     y^^'^^  ^  ^  '7^""%. 

/T  OP  THE  ^ 

f  UNIVERSITY 


66  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

I  He's  buildino^  an  addition  now, 

I  And  Woodward  lias  assured  ns 

That  when  he  gets  it  fitted  up 
He'll  take  difew  more  boarders. 

The  ladies  do  not  seem  to  think 

The  journey  one  of  pleasure, 
And  so  as  yet  remain  at  home, 

Instead  of  going  to  Frazer  ; 
It  looks  to  me  suspicious  though, 

Since  none  but  men  have  gone  there, 
That  bachelors  and  married  men 

Are  taking  cradles  on  there. 

Our  ladies  (bless  their  little  souls) 

Have  really  got  a  passion — 
The  same  as  ladies  always  had — 

Of  being  in  the  fashion  ; 
Yet  I'll  repeat  a  noted  fact 

That  may  create  a  smile, 
That  (in  circumference)  a  miss, 

Is  good  as  any  mile! 

The  little  girls  all  follow  suit 

In  matter  of  apparel, 
And  daily  promenade  the  streets 

All  hooped  up  like  a  barrel  ; 
They  know  it's  very  true  indeed. 

But  then  to  blame  them,  rather 
I'll  say  it's  right  for  every  one 

To  imitate  her  mother. 

Red  petticoats  were  started  once, 

They  say,  by  Queen  Victoria, 
And  had  she  made  the  fashion  go 

'Twould  have  increased  her  glory  ; 
So  ladies  here  once  put  them  on. 

And  wore  them  out  in  town, 
But,  just  because  the  bummers  stared 

They  had  to  let  them  down. 


AND    LOCAL    LYRICS.  67 


A  lady  was   up  in  Court  to-day 

Whose  tong:ue  had  been  unruly — 
The  fine  was  but  twelve  dollars,  which 

Was  very  moderate,  truly  ; 
They  might  have  proved  that  she  had  drawa 

Her  weapons  on  another, 
For  as  a  weapon  woman's  tongice 

Is  worse  than  any  other. 

A  case  of  fighting  there  was  tried, 

And,  showing  no  repentance, 
The  one  who  won  the  victory  will, 

To-morrow,  get  a  sentence  ; 
Because  'twas  clearly  shown  that  Branch 

Was  taken  to  the  locker 
For  picking  up  a  little  branch 

And  walking  into  Walker. 

I  see  here  Tom  McNabb,  who  rode 

The  match  last  week  on  Sunday, 
And  made  two  thousand  dollars,  which 

Was  quite  enough  for  one  day  ; 
The  Golden  Era,  which,  Til  say 

The  people  all  take  pride  in, 
Contains  an  accurate  sketch  of  Tom 

Just  as  he  looked  while  riding. 

The  papers  say,  that  in  Vermont, 

One  of  the  college  schollars, 
Because  hq  kissed  a  pretty  miss. 

Was  fined  some  forty  dollars  ; 
The  San  Francisco  girls,  Fm  sure. 

Would  never  make  such  fusses — 
Both  Logue  and  Bowman  will  admit 

They're  fond  of  taking  busses. 


i 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

No,  YIII, 

A  few  more  local  verses  I 

Have  made  since  I  got  in  here, 
And  as  youN^e  asked  me  for  them  friends 

I  might  as  well  begin  here  ; 
I  caught  my  muse  to-night,  and  now. 

If  courage  does  LOt  f i  i  her, 
I'll  stitch  you  up  a  little  song 

To  prove  that  I'm  a  tailovy 

The  seats  here  in  the  orchestra 

To-night  I  will  engage, 
Are  nearly  filled  with  men  who  have 

A  passion  for  the  stage  ; 
As  usual  all  good  looking  men 

To  night  111  say  are  present, 
Although  the  contrast's  bad  for  me, 

The  sight  is  very  pleasant. 

Friend  Ball  has  rolled  in  here  to-night, 

And  since  to-night  he's  found  here, 
We  really  hope  as  time  rolls  on 

He'll  often  roll  around  here  ; 
At  his  Saloon,  just  up  the  street, 

He's  many  things  to  sell  now, 
He's  tongue  and  tripe,  and  cold  pigs  feet, 

And  oysters  in  the  shell  now. 

I  see  here  Contra  Costa  George 

Of  Laundry  notoriety, 
Who  daily  after  washing  goes 

I'm  told  in  good  society  ; 
He's  in  the  washing  business, 

And  very  good  the  trade  is, 
And  he's  a  favorite  here  in  town, 

At  least  among  the  ladies. 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS.  69 


The  Globe  wags  on — so  wags  my  rhyme — 

From  Monday  round  to  Monday — 
Looks  very  smiling  any  time, 

And  beautifully  Sunday  ; 
Though  Kings  might  try  to  vanquish, 

By  Archemedes  I'll  prove  it, 
So  long  as  there's  no  place  to  stand 

They  surely  cannot  move  it. 

Vanover  is  another  whom 

I'll  mention  in  my  rhymes, 
He's  one  of  several  bosses  of 

The  Spirit  of  the  Times  ; 
I'll  say  that  public  patronage 

The  Spirt  truly  merits. 
The  Times  and  its  proprietors 

Are  often  full  of  spirits, 

I'll  say  the  Spirit  of  the  Times 

Is  a  very  spicy  sheet, 
And  as  good  a  friend  in  a  gloomy  hour 

As  a  man  would  like  to  meet ; 
There's  Wilcox  its  collector  here, 

Of  late  Town  Talk  renown, 
The  tallest  newspaporial  man 

I've  met  with  in  the  town. 

I  see  friend  Winship  here  to-night, 

I  called  on  him  to-day 
Upon  the  steamer  Shubrick,  which 

Is  anchored  in  the  Bay  ; 
Friend  Martin,  Andy,  Johnson,  States, 

And  I  with  great  pomposity, 
Went  down  but  found  the  enf^ineer 
The  greatest  curiosity. 

We  found  on  board  some  curious  things. 
Some  curious  machinery, 


i 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

Besides  a  curious  telescope 
To  look  at  curious  scenery  ; 

Some  curious  rifles,  cannons,  swords, 
And  found  what  seemed  most  curious, 

There  was  no  whiskey  there  on  board, 
So  2^  few  of  us  got  furious. 

Friend  Winship  who  is  engineer, 

As  sure  as  I  am  born, 
Has  very  safely  taken  here 

Four  steamers  round  the  Horn  ; 
Now  as  an  engineer  I'll  say 

Dear  friends,  that  in  a  horn,  he 
Could  find  his  match  as  engineer 

In  all  of  California. 

On  board  the  Yankee  next  we  went, 

Friend  States  knew  every  rope, 
He  found  a  bottle  labelled  rye 

Without  the  aid  of  Pope  ; 
The  Yankee's  a  fast  sailing  boat, 

In  fact  a  real  rover, 
On  her,  though  tied  up  to  the  dock, 

We  all  got  half  seas  over. 

And  not  until  just  four  o'clock 

Did  any  think  of  starting. 
But  all  I  think  were  asked  to  drink 

By  Commodore  Bob  Martin  ; 
We  took  a  whisky  toddy  each, 

And  ended  the  excursion. 
And  I,  though  fuddled,  hastened  home 

To  give  you  this  my  version. 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS.  71 

No.  IX. 

Allow  me,  in  our  local  song,  ^ 

To  do  our  advertising, 
And  say  our  Lyceum  gets  along 

In  a  manner  most  surprising  ; 
'Twas  an  experiment  they  tried. 

In  putting  prices  down, 
The  beauty  every  night  we  find, 

And  fashion  of  the  town. 

The  great  success  the  Lyceum  meets, 

I'll  mention  and  with  pleasure, 
Is,  very  clearly,  owing  to 

The  ladies,  in  a  measure  ; 
For  every  night  the  circle  there, 

Replete  with  living  beauty. 
Has  been  to  all  a  motive  power, 

To  prompt  them  on  to  duty. 

We  have  the  sisters  Mandeville, 

With  songs  the  best  and  choicest, 
Who  are  enough  the  house  to  fill  ' 

With  their  melodious  voices. 
The  dancing  Worrels,  too,  have  we, 

Who  with  us  take  the  chances, 
Besides,  the  man  who  beats  the  world 

In  many  Sterling  dances. 

WeVe  Hussy  here,  the  funny  man, 

Who  with  them  all  can  cope — he 
Can  beat  a  darkey  from  the  South, 

Or  one  from  Ethiopa  ; 
We've  Henry,  too,  and  not  to  let. 

The  Christy  Minstrels  whack  us, 
V\\  say  our  management  has  got 

Friend  Backus  here  to  hack-us. 

WeVe  Raleigh,  who  is  really  good. 
And  Johnson,  who  is  a  roarer  ; 


72  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

K     ■ 

-''  WeVe  Edmonds,  Hallet,  Bailey,  Smith, 

L  With  riorville  and  Max  Zorer  ; 

^  WeVe  Oldfield,  Bernard,  and  friend  Phelps, 

And  not  to  let  them  fail  us. 
Kind  friends  you  must  excuse  us,  but 

We've  two  good-looking  Taylors. 

With  such  a  Company  as  this, 

In  such  a  nice  location, 
With  pieces,  songs,  and  prices  such 

As  merit  approbation  ; 
I'll  ask  you  all,  who  think  that  life 

Should  be  a  scene  of  pleasure, 
If  His  not  better  to  come  here 

Than  go  away  to  Frazer. 

WeVe  twenty-five  performers  here — 

In  his  or  her  vocation. 
Each  one  will  try  their  very  best 

To  merit  approbation  ; 
We  only  charge  a  quarter  here 

In  any  kind  of  weather. 
So  it  only  costs  a  cent  apiece 

To  see  us  all  together. 

I  notice  Billy  Mathews  here, 

I'll  say,  in  friendship  purely, 
That  all  who  know  him  say  that  he 

Is  a  fine  fellow,  surely  ; 
Behind  some  nag  of  lightning  speed, 

Through  town  you'll  see  him  plowing — 
The  only  man,  they  say,  who  holds 

The  reins  o'er  Ned  McGowan. 

The  ladies  have  come  in  to-night, 
And  I  must  now  address  them. 

And  say  they're  beautiful,  polite, 
And  lovely,  too,  God  bless  them  ; 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS.  73 

Although  they're  all  hooped  up,  sometimes, 

I'll  pledge  we  will  not  heed  it, 
The  coopers,  all,  will  tell  us  that 

The  weaker  vessels  need  it. 

The  ladies,  I  am  glad  to  say, 

God  bless  their  lovely  features, 
Cannot,  with  much  consistency, 

Be  called  humbuging  creatures, 
For  any  girl's  a  fortune  now, 

And  worthy  our  caresses, 
For  if  you  are  deceived  in  her, 

Shell  make  it  up  in  dresses. 

With  such  an  audience  as  this, 

I'll  say  we  are  contented, 
For,  by  the  ladies  presence  here. 

We  all  feel  complimented. 
IVe  said  some  hard  things,  it  is  true, 

But  now  I'm  going  to  soften — 
You've  complimented  us  to-night. 

Please  compliment  us  often. 


No.  X. 


With  fifty  dollars  worth  of  hides 

It  is  said  that  yesterday 
A  tanner  sent  a  man  to  town. 

Who  thought  to  hide  away  ; 
And  fearing  he  would  hide  the  hides. 

To  town  the  tanner  riding. 
Hied  after  him  who  hid  the  hides, 

And  gave  the  man  a  hiding, 

'Tis  said,  from  Eugene  Kelly's  store. 
Three  hundred  handkerchiefs, 

Were  the  chief  goods  'twere  handed  out 
On  Friday  by  some  thieves ; 


74**  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

His  object,  now,  in  stealing  them 

I'll  say  no  one  supposes  ; 
'Twas  a  heavy  blow  to  Kelly,  but 

The  thieves  can  blow  their  noses. 

There's  Richers,  who  went  East  to-day, 

Will  doubtless  feel  contented 
With  the  watch  and  chain  and  bosom  pin 

That  to  him  were  presented  ; 
Stone  cutters  and  the  masons  would 

Have  given  him  a  pitcher, 
But  all  declared  that  Richers  should 

Have  something  that  was  richer. 

The  Brannan  Engine  that,  you  know, 

Has  caused  some  hard  contention, 
Since  Howard  No.  3  now  owns. 

Is  well  worthy  of  mention  ; 
Divested  of  its  ornaments, 

It  can't  be  called  a  beauty, 
But  when  it's  worked  by  No.  3, 

It's  bound  to  do  its  duty. 

Ford's  Golden  Era — better  than 

Ford  can  afford  to  make  it — 
Is  sometimes  stolen  by  the  men 

Who  can't  afford  to  take  it ; 
Ford  takes  it  as  a  compliment. 

And  this  I'll  say,  believing, 
He  overlooks  the  incident 

And  quite  forgives  the  thieving. 

Jack  Powers  was  here  not  long  ago, 
But  where  he's  gone  is  wondered  ; 

To  one  who'll  find  him  Weller  says 
He'll  freely  give  five  hundred  ; 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS. 

Now,  sporting  men  should  show  their  powers 

And  look  through  all  the  packj 
Not  often  can  they  make  as  much 

By  turning  up  a  Jack, 

Our  city  guardians,  they  say, 

Have  done  a  deed  worth  naming. 
For  with  sharp  sticks  they've  followed  up 

All  those  engaged  in  gaming  ; 
They  may  put  down  the  "  faro  banks '' — 

It's  very  plain,  as  we  know — 
They  dried  up  "  rondo  "  long  ago, 

And  fairly  strangled  "  keno." 

On  Thursday,  in  Montgomery  street — • 

I'll  say  IVe  heard  a  rumor — 
That  a  blooming  miss  was  really  seen 

Who  wore  a  real  bloomer; 
'Tis  really  said,  this  curious  craft. 

From  codfish  and  the  suckers, 
Attracted  more  attention  than 

The  specimens  at  Tucker^ s. 

Attorney  Willis  to  Judge  Coon 

A  good  idea  suggested, 
That  if  petty  thieves  the  town  would  leave 

They  should  be  unmolested  ; 
'Twould  save  committing  larger  crimes, 

And  lessen  the  offence, 
Save  Col.  James  a  heap  of  talk, 

The  public  some  expense. 

Jake  Chase  I  notice  here  to-night, 

The  man  who  had  to  stay 
In  Washington  Market,  I  am  told. 

To  chase  the  rogues  away  ; 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

While  Chase,  the  special  watchman^s  there, 

I'll  say  it's  my  belief, 
That  not  a  single  rogue  or  dog 

Can  get  a  smell  of  beef. 

There's  Lasey  here,  who  may  be  seen 

From  ten  o'clock  till  noon, 
Explaining  the  dead  languages 

To  our  Recorder,  Coon  ; 
He  understands  of  lingo's,  four — 

I'll  say  the  Courts  have  planned  it, 
So  he  can  stand  above  the  rest 

And  make  them  wncierstand  it. 

And  I  will  tell  you  first,  my  friends, 

I'm  happy  to  see  here 
Jim  Godfrey,  once  proprietor 

Of  the  Old  Mountaineer  ; 
To  him  we  owe  the  invention  of 

The  mountaineer  punches — 
I  owe  him  nothing  for  his  drinks 

But  something  for  his  lunches. 


No.  XI. 

Reporters  notice  every  thing 

From  races  to  revivals, 
They  notice  our  distinguished  men, 

And  all  the  late  arrivals ; 
I  sometimes  follow  in  their  wake, 

And  notice  people  in  here, 
And  as  I  see  some  that  I  know, 

I  might  as  well  begin  here. 

There's  Jolly  Hudson  here  to-night, 

A  plummer,  by  the  way, 
But  friends,  don't  get  the  fever  up. 

He's  not  from  Hudson  Bay  ; 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS. 

Friend  Hudson's  known  all  over  town. 
His  business  here  is  thriving. 

If  a  horse  goes  by  with  lightning  speed, 
"  You  bet  "  its  Hudson  driving, 

I  notice  Keys  the  clothing  man, 

Down  here  from  Clay  and  Kearney, 
I  never  had  much  deal  with  him, 

But  then  I'll  say,  I  learn  he 
Has  pants  that  he  now  "pants  to  sell. 

And  all  who're  interested, 
Can  invest  their  money  for  a  vest 

And  find  it  well  invested. 

In  speaking  of  our  public  men 

Who  nightly  seek  these  places. 
What  wonder  that  I  now  and  then 

Should  speak  of  "  soda  cases '' ; 
Fitzpatrick  is  the  soda  man 

To  whom  I'll  give  a  singer. 
Perhaps  he  should  be  better  known 

If  I  should  call  him  '*  ginger", 

I  notice  here  friend  Harry  May 

From  Biggs  &  Kibby's  hailing, 
Where  when  you  want  a  social  smile 

You'll  find  him  never  failing; 
I  notice  also  Mr.  Hobb, 

One  of  amusements  pillars. 
Who  owns  the  little  paradise. 

That's  known  here  as  the  Willows. 

Jim  Smith  is  also  here  to-night, 

I'll  say  its  my  belief. 
That  he  has  made  a  pretty  stake 

By  selling  people  heef ; 
I'd  like  to  aid  him  with  a  puflF, 

'Tis  all  that  I  can  render, 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

If  that  assistance  aint  enough, 
I'll  say  "  his  beef  is  tender/' 

Friend  Cohen,  with  his  nice  white  hat, 

I^m  happy  to  see  here, 
Allow  me  just  to  tell  you  that 

He  is  an  auctioneer  ; 
He^ll  tell  you  that  he'll  sell  you  cheap, 

You've  only  just  to  try. 
And  if  you  do  not  like  the  goods. 

He'll  tell  you  "  don't  you  buy.'^ 

The  ladies  fair,  an  unfair  thing, 

I  visited  on  Friday, 
I  never  fared  as  bad  as  then 

Among  the/oir  in  my  day  ; 
Though  ladies  seem  to  manifest 

Some  sympathy  for  sailors. 
They  took  no  kind  of  notice  of 

Dilapidated  Taylors, 

But  just  at  twelve  o^clock  to-day, 

I  felt  a  great  deal  prouder, 
While  eating  clams  at  Patten's  where 

We  had  a  "  Boston  chowder  '^ ; 
Blue  eyes  and  smiles  and  billet  deaux 

And  crinolines  and  satins, 
Could  not  compare  with  chowder yare 

Each  Sunday  down  at  Patten^s. 

There's  Murphy,  an  attorney,  here, 

Who  gets  his  share  of  cases  ; 
He's  a  jovial  man,  and  thinks  this  place 

One  of  the  pleasant  places  ; 
As  an  attorney,  I  will  say, 

A  good  one  he,  of  course,  is — 
He's  very  good  in  any  case, 

But  heavy  on  divorces. 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS. 

There's  Billy  Lyons  here  I  see  ; 

He  won't  be  angry,  will  he  ? 
We  all  like  Billy's  Lyon  Ale, 

And  all  of  us  like  JBilly  ; 
There  are  some  beverages,  I'll  own, 

That  would  cause  a  persons  ruin, 
But  almost  any  man  can  hear 

The  ale  of  Lyonis  brewing. 


i 


No.  XII, 

Another  of  my  promises 

Has  fallen  due  to-day, 
While  here  are  many  creditors 

All  looking  for  their  pay  ; 
The  times  are  very  hard  indeed, 

'Tis  hard  to  keep  afloat, 
And  so  I  hope  that  all  of  you 

Will  freely  take  a  note. 

This  writing  songs  in  critics,  where 

Nobody  knows  his  neighbor, 
Requires,  to  have  them  understood, 

A  vast  amount  of  labor  ; 
Unless  the  subject  is  well  known 

By  nearly  all  before  us, 
I  might  as  well  sing  Digger  songs, 

And  give  a  Chinese  chorus. 

I  think,  my  friends,  from  what  I've  learned, 

That  we've  sufficient  reason 
To  call  the  fire  of  yesterday 

The  greatest  of  the  season  ; 
And  as  I  need  some  items  much. 

To  help  my  rhyme  along, 
What  little  things  I  saw  myself, 

I'll  mention  in  my  song. 


80  iriBCEIiLANirOUS  fdems 

I  noticed  ''  No.  2  "  among 

The  first  upon  tbe  ground, 
And  where  the  greatest  danger  was, 

'^  Manhattan  ^'  bojs  were  found  ; 
Until  their  engine  took  on  fire, 

''  Yon  bet "  they  made  her  "  plaj,  ^ 
But  when  they  all  got  nicely  singly 

They  took  her  out  the  way. 

I  noticed  that,  quick  as  thought^ 

Each  company  got  water, 
Attacking  soon  the  element 

From  every  nook  and  quarter ; 
I  saw  '^  Pacific  No.  8,'' 

Like  heroes,  work  a  go^d  while 

Upon  a  little  spot  between 
A  burning  house  and  wood-pile. 

I  noticed  "  Nos.  3  ''  and  "  1 '' 

Were  there,  among  the  others^ 
But  as  their  machines  were  not  in  trimy 

They  helped  to  work  another^s. 
A  Spanish  dame  appealed  to  him, 

Geo  Shyler  says  "  I  sabe,'^ 
And  darting  in  among  the  flames. 

Brought  out  a  Spanish  baby. 

A  German  in  the  boarding  house 

Was  sleeping  like  a  log, 
But  waked  in  time  to  save  biniself. 

By  the  barking  of  his  dog, ; 
He  doubtless  thought  that  one  good  tura 

Indeed  deserved  another. 
And  so  he  threw  his  puppy  out, 

And  thus  they  saved  each  other. 

All  dressed  up  in  their  Sunday  clothes, 
About  eight  hundred  men  there, 


AND   LOCAL  LYRICS.  81. 


Were  all  corralled  upon  the  wharf 

Like  porkers  in  a  pen  there ; 
They  started,  frightened,  down  the  wharf, 

The  fire  and  smoke  would  follow, 
And  the  boatmen  wouldn't  take  them  off 

Unless  they  paid  a  dollar. 

The  captain  of  the  Senator 

Sent  out  an  invitation 
For  firemen  to  come  on  his  boat 

And  have  a  fine  collation. 
Each  fireman  earned  the  tribute  shown, 

And  when  he  ate  his  meal,  he 
Felt  quite  contented  with  himself 

And  pleased  with  Captain  Seely. 

IVe  often  seen  the  firemen  work, 

But  really  I  must  say, 
I  ne'er  saw  better  duty  done,       4  . 

Than  by  those  at  the  Bay.         A 
Such  noble  hearted  boys  are  they, 

I  say  not  this  to  flatter, 
I  would  not  see  them  broken  up 

By  any  trifling  matter. 

The  Morning  Call,  a  spicy  sheet 

That's  taken  through  the  city. 
Gets  off'  a  deal  of  solid  sense, 

And  now  and  then  is  witty. 
Against  the  "  corn  league  '^  here  awhile, 

It  took  a  noble  station, 
Went  in  upon  flour  dealers  till 

It  killed  their  speculation. 

'Tis  said  that  Gwin,  at  Washington, 

Is  rather  going  down, 
While  Broderick  8  gaining  every  day 

Much  honor  and  renown. 


i 

4 


82  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

To  all  who  know  the  man  at  least, 
1^11  say  it  seems  surprising  ; 

It  must  be  either  gass  or  yeast 
That's  caused  his  sudden  rising. 


No.  XIII. 

I'm  sorry  that  I  am  obliged 

To  say  our  lovely  women 
Think  charity  of  less  account 

Than  crinolines  and  trimming  ; 
That  you'll  admit  a  truth  I'll  tell 

Is  truly  to  be  trusted, 
The  more  of  hoops  the  ladies  buy, 

The  sooner  men  are  busted. 

We  hear  much  talk  of  woman's  rights, 

And  some  are  so  strong-minded, 
That  unto  tjieir  advantages 

They  are  most  surely  blinded  ; 
So  down  they're  getting  on  tho  men — 

Unless  their  project  fails, 
They  will  not  let  their  letters  be 

Dependent  on  the  mails^ 

But  after  all,  I  must  declare, 

Since  ladies  I'm  addressing, 
They  were  designed  to  be,  and  are, 

No  doubt,  our  greatest  blessing  ; 
Their  eyes  can  lead  a  preacher  off, 

Their  smiles  can  charm  a  deacon — 
There's  nothing  like  a  ladies  frown 

To  make  a  Taylor  weaken. 

The  Oakland  ladies,  o'er  the  Bay, 

Will  surely  do  to  brag  on, 
I've  often  seen  them  riding  out 

Upon  a  baker's  wagon  ; 


AND   LOCAL   LYEICS. 

I^m  told  they  ride  with  any  man, 

No  matter  what  his  trade  is, 
Tis  well  they  ride  on  bread-carts, 

As  they  are  well  bred  ladies. 

I^m   glad  to  see  Bob  Beaty  here. 

Who  lives  out  at  the  races, 
You'll  find  the  White  House,  where  he  stops. 

One  of  the  best  of  places  ; 
Whenever  to  a  race  you  go, 

You  must  be  sure  to  call  there, 
For  were  it  not  for  Bob,  I'll  say 

There'd  ])e  no  fun  at  all  there. 

George  Parkison,  too,  I'm  glad  to  see, 

I'll  tell  you  for  a  wonder. 
To  poultry  he  has  got  in  town 

The  Shanghai's  must  knock  under ; 
You'll  find  with  him  there's  no  foul  play. 

And  it  is  worth  your  knowing, 
He  has  enough  of  finest  cocks 

To  do  his  extra  crowing. 

Among  the  audience  I  see 

Our  news  dealer,  Jack  Stratton, 
As  fine  a  man,  so  all  admit, 

As  ever  had  a  hat  on  ; 
We  look  to  him  for  latest  news, 

And  though  lie  after  cash  is, 
His  heart  is  only  equalled  by 

The  size  of  his  moustaches. 

In  slicing  up  my  local  hits, 

I'm  duty  bound  to  mention 
Friend  Slicer,  a  policeman  here, 

Who's  worthy  of  attention  ; 
The  boys  who  know  him  best,  declare, 

A  first  rate  man  is  Andy — 
To  check  a  row,  receive  a  cheeky 

Or  "  smile,"  you'll  find  him  handy. 


t 


84  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

I^m  glad  to  see  policemen  are 

To-night  where  they  are  wanted, 
There's  several  who  are  in  to-night, 

And  seem  to  be  undaunted  ; 
There's  Captain  Andrews  out  in  front, 

And  I  must  not  neglect  him. 
He's  got  policeman  Hess  along, 

I  notice,  to  protect  him. 

Friend  Morse,  I  notice,  stationed  here, 

He  deals  in  stationery^ 
Late  papers,  new  romances,  and 

Books  highly  literary  ; 
Tis  up  on  Kearney  street  you'll  find 

His  novel-\\\iQ  location. 
Like  Morse,  the  telegraphic  man. 

He's  won  a  reputation. 


No.  XIY. 

I've  got  a  military  song 

To  sing  on  this  occasion. 
And  that  you'll  pardon  me  from  wrong 

I'll  say  is  my  persuasion  ; 
On  general  topics  I  shall  sing 

Unto  the  friends  before  us, 
Though  every  verse  to-night  is  new, 

I  have  the  same  old  chorus. 

From  strictly  local  topics  now — 

You'll  pardon  the  digression — 
I'll  prove  that  we  have  humbugs  here 

In  every  profession  ; 
The  creed  that  mankind  gow  upon 

In  deal  with  one  another. 
Is  that  one-half  the  world  was  made 

To  swindle  well  the  other. 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS.  85 


WeVe  quack  physicians  in  our  midst 

Who  pompously  assure  us, 
Whatever  may  be  our  complaint, 

That  they  can  really  cure  us  ; 
These  doctors  do  not  oft  agree 

In  practice  or  in  reading, 
But  if  you  have  a  heavy  purse 

They  all  go  in  for  bleeding. 

And  in  the  newspaporial  line 

Are  sheets  of  some  dimensions, 
To  lead  the  literary  world 

Have  Warren-ted  pretensions  ; 
They  practice  plagiarisms  so 

That  people  are  believing 
They  keep  their  reputation  up 

By  literary  thieving. 

The  preachers  now  have  changed  their  texts, 

Tis  true,  as  well  as  funny — 
Instead  of  working  now  for  souls, 

Their  sole  desire  is  money  ; 
The  *'  camel  and  the  needle's  eye  " 

Are  certainly  forgotten, 
And  bridges  made  to  get  to  heaven 

Now-a-days  are  rather  rotten. 

Revivals  in  the  Eastern  States 

Have  made  a  great  sensation  ; 
I  think  our  State  a  noble  field 

For  a  like  operation  ; 
For  from  the  paths  of  rectitude 

WeVe  made  such  wild  desertion 
That  nineteen  out  of  twenty  here 

Are  subjects  for  conversion. 

Society  since  Forty-nine 
Is  some  improved,  I'm  thinking — 


1 
i 


86  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

There  isn't  half  the  stealing  now, 
[  Or  more  than  half  the  drinking  ; 

f  At  any  rate  the  timee  have  changed, 

And  when  one  wants  to  steal,  he 
Must  get  a  good  position  first, 
Then  do  the  thing  genteely. 

The  Meiggs  manoeuvres,  I  will  say, 

Are  out  of  fashion  sadly  ; 
And  /.  C.  Woods,  who  ran  away, 

/  see  now  managed  badly  ; 
There's  now  a  better  way  to  steal, 

And  those  who  have  the  passion 
Can  pocket  all  within  their  reach, 

If  they  will  keep  in  fashion. 

The  lawyers  to  these  popular  rules 

Have  made  themselves  compliant ; 
The  subjects  they  go  in  to  pluck 

Is  some  ill-fated  client  ; 
As  long  as  he  has  money,  they 

Will  be  polite  and  civil. 
But  when  they  find  they've  got  it  all 

Then  he  can  go  to  the  d (diggings). 

There's  doctors  here,  both  old  and  young. 

The  pest  of  California, 
Who've  got  more  ignorance  and  brass 

Than  even  an  attorney  ; 
Around  a  wealthy  sick  man's  bed, 

With  great  concern  they  hover, 
They  take  what  little  cash  he's  got, 

Then  leave  him  to recover. 

The  present  ruk  for  getting  gold 

Is  not  the  golden  rule  ; 
Folks  carry  out  a  plan  they  learned 

In  quite  a  different  school ; 


AND    LOCAL   LYRICS.  87 


To  say  that  all  are  after  cash, 
I  think  would  better  hit  it, 

And  very  few  of  them,  I'll  say, 
Care  little  how  they  get  it. 


No.  XY, 

'Tis  at  the  Police  Court  in  town. 

Walk  up  there  in  the  morning, 
You'll  see  there  things  that  ought  to  be 

To  you  a  serious  warning  ; 
You'll  see  there  counselor  McNair 

Fulfilling  his  vocation, 
And  every  time  he  makes  a  speech 

He  makes  a  great  sensation. 

You'll  see  a  fat  Coon  on  the  bench, 

Condemning  each  law-bre&ker. 
You'll  also  see  there  Colonel  James, 

And  sometimes  Colonel  Baker  ; 
You'll  always  see  some  limbs  of  law 

Who  hang  about  these  places. 
And  look  like  ambrotypes  of  death 

That  ne'er  were  put  in  cases. 

I  saw  Judge  Scurber  there  to-day, 

A  very  good  attorney. 
And  just  the  shrewdest  financier 

There  is  in  California  ; 
He  pays  out  nothing  for  his  drinks, 

Because  he  knows  a  plenty 
Of  places,  where,  to  save  their  lives, 

They  cannot  change  a  twenty, 

Tis  said  that  he  has  lots  of  cash 

In  all  the  banking  houses, 
But  that  you  never  catch  the  judge 

With  money  in  his  trousers  ; 


{ 


88  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

He  leaves  his  money  all  in  bank, 
For  he  ha?  learned  with  sorrow, 

That  lawyers  at  the  Police  Court 
Are  always  on  the  borrow. 

At  present,  counselor  McNair 

Gets  nearly  all  the  cases, 
And  like  the  prisoners  in  the  dock, 

The  rest  have  doleful  faces  ; 
All  mourn  because  they  have  no  cause^ 

While  he  has  such  a  bevy, 
And  mourn,  that  on  the  heavy  drunks 

McNair's  become  so  heavy. 

Our  prosecuting  Willis  is 

A  man  of  notoriety. 
Who  thinks  to  clear  the  Chinese  out 

Would  benifit  society  ; 
He^s  after  every  China  case. 

His  papers  have  no  leak  in, 
And  when  he  goes  on  Dupont  street, 

Tis  thought  he  goes  to  peek  in. 

There's  Joe  Capprise,  a  fireman,  who 

No  mortal  e'er  molested, 
For  whipping  a  French  gentleman, 

On  Wednesday  was  arrested  ; 
Somebody  with  a  nip-up  coat 

Struck  Frenchy  in  a  passion, 
Policemen  chanced  to  nip  up  Joe, 

As  he  was  dressed  in  fashion. 

There's  Mr.  White,  of  whom  you've  heard, 

He  cannot  blame  me,  can  he. 
If  I  should  tell  you  that  two  Gifts 

Were  just  one  Gift  too  many  ; 
I'll  not  be  able  to  explain, 

Until  the  case  is  sifted — 
Young  Gift  is  able  with  a  cane. 

Old  Gift  is  also  gifted. 


AND   LOCAL   LYRICS.  89 

No  doubt,  in  this  *'  Gift-Enterprise," 

That  some  outsiders  wondered, 
How  they  would  like  the  price  of  canes 

Established  at  three  hundred  ; 
But  I  am  told  the  price  was  paid. 

And  that  without  complaining, 
And  that  they  have  more  money  left 

To  do  another  caning. 

A  man  who  whipped  his  better  half 

Was  brought  up  to  be  tried. 
The  witness  was  a  pretty  one. 

Who  said  she  was  his  bride  ; 
"  Were  you  acqainted  'ere  you  wed  ?  " 

A  lawyer  asked  politely, 
The  witness  tossed  her  pretty  head. 

And  grinning,  answered  "  slightly." 

Now-a-days,  when  people  get  the  blues, 

They  seem  to  lose  all  hope. 
Revolving  over  in  their  minds 

Revolvers  guns  and  ropes  ; 
Instead  of  coming  here,  where  mirth 

Would  drive  the  devils  away. 
They  make  their  exit  from  the  earth, 

And  there's  the  devil  to  pay. 

Don't  let  these  suicidal  thoughts 

Divert  your  mind  a  minute, 
For,  friends,  there  isn't  any  sport, 

But  lots  of  folly  in  it ; 
Instead  of  buying  strychnine,  ropes, 

Or  jumping  into  water, 
Just  cheat  the  devil,  save  your  lives. 

And  let  us  have  your  quarter. 


90  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

No.  XYI. 

The  famous  Frazer  Eiver  mines 

IVe  chosen  oft  to  mention, 
And  from  the  people  every  day 

They're  gaining  more  attention  ; 
Each  man  is  going  to  Frazer  now 
I  When  he  the  cash  can  master, 

"  And  yellow  fever  never  took 

Away  the  people  faster. 

We've  broken  politicians  here 

That  ought  to  go  to  Frazer, 
And  there  rebuild  themselves  upon 

Some  new  invented  measure  ; 
And  broken  sports  might  follow  suit. 

For  up  at  Frazer,  we  know, 
All  sorts  of  gaming  is  allowed. 

From  faro  down  to  keno. 

The  lawyers,  too  might  go  along, 

For  here  we  have  a  plenty. 
And  very  easily  could  spare. 

To  say  the  least,  some  twenty  ; 
Although  their  business  might  be  dull 

About  the  mining  places, 
-   They  could  go  down  among  the  clams, 

And  go  to  opening  case^. 

The  preachers  should  to  Frazer  go. 

For  it  has  been  asserted, 
There's  Myou  Indians  thereabouts 

That  ought  to  be  converted ; 
They  ought  to  save  the  Chinooks  there 

Before  they  are  too  far  gone, 
And  preaching  always  seemed  to  me 

A  good  deal  like  the  jargon. 


AMD    LOCAL   LYRICS.  91 

Our  actors,  or  legitimates, 

Should  surely  go  to  Frazer, 
For  none  who're  up  there  now,  I'm  told, 

Have  had  a  bit  o{  pleasure  ; 
And  you  can't  find  a  single  man 

Who's  made  his  mind  to  go  there 
But  who  will  tell  you  promptly  that 

He'd  like  to  have  a  show  there. 

The  doctors  might  do  well  up  there, 

Their  pills  and  physic  feeding  ; 
For  when  the  miners  all  get  rich, 

They'll  stand  a  little  bleeding  ; 
And  should  our  doctors  go  there  now, 

Much  better  here  'twould  make  us, 
'Twould  help  the  chance  for  sextons  there 

As  well  as  undertakers. 

Since  rogues  are  going  every  day 

Policemen  ought  to  follow, 
For  where  a  rogue  can  make  a  scad, 

Policemen  make  a  dollar  ; 
They  should  dress  different  from  the  rogues, 

That  miners  need  not  bother, 
As  people  in  the  city  do, 

To  tell  one  from  the  other. 

The  bummers  ought  to  emigrate 

To  Frazer  River,  really, 

For  that  they  could  do  better  there 

Is  my  belief  sincerely  ; 
Free  lunches  soon  will  come  in  vogue, 

And  what  should  make  them  prouder, 
Is,  where  they  have  so  many  clams 

They'll  soon  be  making  chowder. 

IVe  lately  heard  it  prophesied, 
The  Frazer  emigration 


92  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

Will  leave  in  California  but 

The  China  population  ; 
I  am  unable  yet  to  go, 

And  all  that  I'm  afraid  is 
That  all  the  men  will  go  away 

And  leave  me  with  the  ladies. 

If  that  should  ever  be  the  case, 

'Twould  be  a  case  of  pity — 
I  never  could  endure  to  live 

In  San  Francisco  city  ; 
I'd  feel  as  do  the  Japanese, 

As  though  on  foreign  ground. 
For  I  know,  among  so  many  Aoop^, 

I  could'nt  stave  around. 

'Tis  said  the  dead  heads  here  in  town 

No  longer  look  for  pleasure. 
And  think  of  rigging  up  some  plan 

To  emigrate  to  Frazer  ; 
To  all  else  but  the  Frazer  clams 

Their  hearts  are  really  calloused, 
They'll  rig  a  flat  boat  out  and  take 

The/a^  hoy  on  for  ballast. 

When  the  Pacific  sailed  to-day — - 
'Tis  true,  I  pledge  my  word — 

They  had,  besides  a  lot  of  troops, 
Some  thirty  mules  on  board ; 

'Tis  said  an  ass  jumped  overboard. 
For  spite  much  more  than  pleasure,- 

The  only  one  I've  seen  of  late 

That  would'nt  go  to  Frazer, 


AND   LOCAL  LYRICS.  INIVERSll^  |) 

No.  XYII.  <^4l^c^u^^ 

The  funniest  thing  in  modern  times 

Last  evening  was  transacted, 
And  His  my  duty  to  relate 

To  you  how  people  acted  ; 
A  great  mass-meeting  had  been  called, 

Nobody  knows  by  whom, 
To  take  place  in  Montgomery  street, 

In  order  to  have  room. 

And  soon  a  red-wood  platform  on 

The  corner  was  erected —  m 

As  bummers  all  assemble  there,  ^ 

The  place  was  well  selected  ; 
The  fat  boy  then  was  lifted  up 

By  politicians  twenty, 
And  as  it  held  him,  all  agreed 

It  had  of  strength  a  plenty. 

Soon  after  eight  o'clock  came  round, 

There  came  a  motley  crew  there — 
It  seemed  each  nation  on  tlie  globe 

Had  really  sent  a  few  there  ; 
Around  the  red-wood  platform 

Were  funny  forms  and  figures. 
Prom  Chinese,  Black  Republicans, 

And  Spaniards,  up  to  niggers. 

A  man  with  big  brass  buttons,  jumps 

Upon  the  elevation. 
Close  followed  by  another,  with 

A  mighty  corporation  ; 
Five  others  close  behind  them  came, 

The  weight  was  sure  appaling. 
But  since  the  fat  boy  tried  the  plank, 

None  were  afraid  of  falling. 


94  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

In  order  to  begin,  they  called 

Judge  Campbell  to  the  chair — 
He  accepted,  but  on  looking  round, 

Discovered  none  was  there  ; 
The  crowd  then  for  a  speech  did  call, 

And  there  is  no  denial. 
That  several  tried  to  make  a  speech, 

But  weakened  on  the  trial. 

For  what  the  meeting  was  designed, 

Nobody  knew  or  learned, 
But  when  the  free-lunch  time  came  on, 
^'  All  wanted  it  adjourned  ; 
So  aliero  of  brass-buttoned  blue 

Just  kept  the  crowd  at  bay. 
Till  the  six  who  couldn^t  make  a  speech 

Had  time  to  slink  away. 

This  meeting  was  a  game  of  bluff. 

Got  up  by  men,  I  find, 
Who  cannot  get  a  chance  to  deal 

So  wish  to  go  it  blind  ; 
Though  'twas  Anti-Lecompton  called. 

Each  man  can  see, — now  can't  he  ? 
That  all  the  speakers  had  to  pasB 

Because  they  could'nt  ante. 

Fitch  could'nt  fix  upon  a  plan, 

McDougal  failed  in  his'n, 
Estell  then  talked  unto  the  crowd. 

The  crowd  talked  of  the  prison  ; 
'Tis  said  that  every  speaker  failed. 

That  Mizner  fairly  mizzled, 
And  that  for  lack  of  gass  alone. 

The  monster  meeting  fizzled. 


CONTENTS. 


m 


Mining  Life  in  T'orty-nine     -        -        - 
All   for  Money         -  -         -         - 

The  Broken  Miner's  Soliloquy 

The  C(  Lvention  of  Fishes 

White  Smith,  Esq  -         -  -         .  ^^ 

Woman's   Rights        -------18 

Vanity  and  Pride     -------19 

A  Tale  of  a  Tailor 21 

Alexander  Hunter  -         -         _         -         -        -         25 

Musings  of  a  Maniac     -         -         -•-         -         -_27 

The    Country   Editor 29 

The   Gold  Dollar 30 

The  Vegetable   Girl 31 

Lines   to   the   Devil  -         _        -         -        _        -       32 

Matrimonial   Joys  -         -         -         -         -         -         -33 

The    Village   Book-keeper 34 

Ideal   and  Real 36 

The  Sleepy   Deacon 38 

A    Pathetic   Ballad         --....-    40 

The   Frazer   Fever      -  42 

Acrostics -44 

This   Picture  and   That 45 

Lines  To 46 

Local   Lyrics 47 


H 


"? 


r 


"^a5D' 


Reading  for  the  Million!! 


HUTCHINGS  &  ROSENFIELD, 

§  MONTGOMERY  STREET,  NEAR  CLAY, 


the  lead*   ATLANTIC   and  EUROPEAN 

They  also  keep  constaiitlj  on  hand  an  excellent  assortment  of 

LAWYERS'  AND  JUSTICES'  BLANKS, 

of  ever}^  description. 

ITWS'  CAUFGiU  lEJlfflE 

Has  now  reached  its  Third  Yolume,  and  is  growing  rapid j 

into  popular  favor. 
It  is  issued  Monthly,  at  $3,00  per  year.    Each  number  contaiJ 
Forty-Eight  pages  of  choice  reading  maitei'. 
^  handsomely  illustrated.  /^  '  -  of  ■.  \ 

'  Qv  ■      '  I  nNiVEK.,.u/r>.r)f 


S?a 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASStSSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  50  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.00  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


JUL  24  1936 


PSEil2P6§69 


AUG  4 


REC'D 


^ 


1^ 


^Q^30'65-5PM 


LOAN  Dept. W 


t>EP  1 7 1971  %  t 


\  ()\~ 


4 


SENT  ON  ILL 


LiSiJAHV   USc 


HAR  1  5  199^1 


SHP12  1957 


U.  C.  BERKELEY 


REC'P  ^^ 


SE?^ 


18S^ 


tenrrfr- 


-SE^ 


1 71-9  mas  ^~i| 


